


Irreplaceable Sorrow, Irreplaceable Joy

by RTSideStories



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Heirarchy, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst just in the prolouge then everything is better, Derek assumes Stiles' personality in this fic in his own way., Everyone is pretty OOC, F/F, F/M, Frustrating as Hell Stiles, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Stiles assumes Derek's personality in this fic in his own way., a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RTSideStories/pseuds/RTSideStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale knows his life has been amazing.  Blessed from the day he was born with an amazing pack, amazing friends, and amazing parents, each day is a new adventure to look forward to.</p><p>Especially when he comes to Beacon Hills, the town that will eventually be given to him as his territory.  </p><p>Everything had gone so well, until he met "Genim "Stiles" McCall", a human with absolutely no emotion or feeling, the old Alpha's adopted son.  Which, of course, out of everyone in the world, also had to be the mate that his wolf wanted.  Great, just what he needs.  A sourpuss fucking up his day.</p><p>(Or the one where Derek's life was daisies and rainbows and Stiles had the traumatic childhood.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue : Past Meets the Present

On August 23 1990, at 2:03 PM, Genim Stilinski was born a human in the small town of Beacon Hills.  A day that Genim would regret for a little over a decade.

On August 24th, 1990, at 2:04 PM, Derek Hale would be born a werewolf in the bustling city of San Francisco.  A day that Derek would cherish each and every day.

  
  
On August 23rd, 1995, Genim Stilinski would be viciously attacked and bitten by a demon that broke into his home, and be hospitalized for three months. He would die twice during these three months.  Leaving the hospital would be considered a blessing, but the cursed mark on his neck said otherwise.

On August 24th, 1995, Derek Hale would be diagnosed with a remarkably high bone density.  He left the hospital the same day and was told that he would be near unbreakable as a wolf, and could live his wife without worry of any serious injury.

  
  
On August 23rd, 1996, Genim Stilinski would get made fun of by Jackson Whittemore for wearing glasses and having a "goofy" mark on his neck.  The rest of the class would laugh along with him.  As a result, his first day of kindergarten would end friendless.

On August 24th, 1996, Derek Hale would become the most popular kid in kindergarten as the son of the California Alphas, making a pack of loyal friends named Erica, Isaac, and Boyd.  A werecat, a human, and a werewolf respectively.

 

On August 23rd, 1997, Genim Stilinski would meet his best and only friend in life, the werewolf Scott McCall, at the local park.  Later that night, Scott would be beaten within an inch of his life from his abusive father.  Stiles would not see Scott again for three weeks, and only after Alpha Rafe McCall was put away in prison for life for attempted murder.

On August 24th, 1997, Derek Hale would meet his little sister and best friend in the entire world, Cora Hale, for the first time.  He did not leave her or his mother’s side for three weeks.

 

On August 23rd, 1998, Genim Stilinski would receive a puppy for his birthday.  It would die hours later of an unknown heart infection in Stiles’ arms and be buried in the flower garden under a white cross.  Despite offers, Stiles did not want another puppy.  

On August 24th, 1998, Derek Hale would receive a motherless pup to raise as his own canine companion.  Bud the German Shepherd would grow and thrive under his werewolf owner.

 

On August 23rd, 1999, Genim Stilinski would not leave his room for anything, screaming that he did not want a birthday anymore.  He would hide in the closet until 12:01 AM the following day.

On August 24th, 1999, Derek Hale would not get home until 12:01 AM the following day, after a surprise trip to Disneyworld that his pack had planned for months.  His Uncle Peter would carry the snoring child into his bedroom.

 

On August 23rd, 2000, Genim Stilinski would go to a small party in the park with Scott and his parents.  An earthquake would cause a tree to fall on Genim’s leg, breaking it in the process.  He would be in a cast for six months.

On August 24th, 2000, Derek Hale would meet the super-celebrity MMA Alpha fighter Deucalion and have the most amazing birthday of a preteen’s life with his “bros” Isaac and Boyd.  

 

On August 23rd, 2001, Genim Stilinski would jokingly tell the story of his terrible birthdays to a classroom of his peers during English Class.  He even explained about the terrible mark on his neck being a bite from a demon.  By August 24th, Genim would earn the nickname “Cursed Kid”, and nobody but Scott would ever sit next to him again.  He would never open his mouth in class after that, and would quietly fade into the backdrop, forgotten by the world around him.

On August 24th, 2001, Derek Hale would seriously tell his class about the time his Uncle Peter flew him to Spain over the summer, and how he’d been trying to learn Spanish.  By August 24th, everyone wanted to know everything about Derek’s life.

 

  
**_August of 2002 for either lad was never to be spoken of._ **

 

  
On August 23rd, 2003, Genim Stilinski would present as an Omega human in society.  Without an Alpha ANYTHING wanting to come anywhere near him, he spent his first heat alone.  He would lay in the bed lonely as the bitter toxic suppressants numbed him from the waist down, as not even Scott could come visit him at his worst.

On August 24th, 2003, Derek Hale would present as an Alpha Lycanthrope in society.  He would go through his first rut alone, but thankfully had Isaac and Boyd near him to stave off the loneliness.

  
  
On August 23rd, 2004, Genim Stilinski would lose his mother unexpectedly in a car crash.

On August 24th, 2004, Derek Hale’s house would be destroyed in a vicious fire caused by an electrical surge.  No casualties were recorded.  The pack sobbed gleefully through the night that nobody had been hurt.

  
  
On August 23rd, 2005, Genim Stilinski would lose his father to a mad gunman who thought a wallet was more important than human life.

On August 24th, 2005, Derek Hale would cry tears of joy as Isaac, Boyd, and Erica become official members of the Hale Pack.  Isaac and Boyd would move in and share a room with him, while Erica and Cora shared their own room.  The Hale pack would be fuller and brighter than ever before.

 

  
On August 23rd, 2006, Genim Stilinski would become  Genim "Stiles" McCall officially through court papers.  Melissa McCall, his adoptive mother, would come home with test results positive for leukemia.  

On August 24th, 2006, Derek would learn that his family would be moving to a new city within a year’s time.  The new city of Beacon Hills would become Derek’s territory, as the previous Alpha McCall had precious little time left in the world.  Derek would eagerly await being trained as a true Alpha under his mother, and his heart bloomed with excitement as he named Boyd his second on the spot.  
  
  


And on August 1st, 2007, Stiles McCall would meet an Alpha Werewolf by the name of Derek.  Neither of their lives would ever be the same.

_This is where our story begins._

__


	2. Chapter 2

Beacon Hills High School was most definitely nothing like the school Derek Hale had gone to in San Francisco.  From a class size of forty or more down to twenty something took some social adjusting to, and then there was the whole “oh hey look new kids we’ve never seen before in our small town **_INTRODUCE YOURSELVES TO US AND TELL US EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU IN TEN SECONDS OR LESS_** ”.  

Just like the first, second and third periods, twenty sets of eyes were all on him and his pack at the front of Mr. Finstock’s Health Class.  Trying to smile and bear the long winded attendance spiel by the awkward thirty-something male foxling, Derek focused on the back and forth swishing of the teacher’s tail, hoping he’d seriously shut up and let them sit down.

Not that he BLAMED them for staring.  He was 200 pounds of solid muscle, had what he knew was the perfect level of stubble on his face, and had the kind of tight fitting henleys that he hoped would catch the eye of a mate at some point. Then there were his Alpha red eyes, always a turn-on.  Like his sister Cora liked to say, he was "a sex god waiting to happen if he'd ever lose his V-card".  He both loved and hated his sister at times.

“Okay, so…  That’s done,” Finstock said, slamming shut his attendance book.  “Now listen up, we’ve got some Hales here who are going to introduce themselves.  Show them some respect and act like you’ve got some kind of an upbringing.  Go ahead Mr. Hale,” he said, bowing his head carefully.

Derek rolled his eyes.  JUST because his family was head of the Alpha Guild that ran the states of Washington, California, New Mexico, and New York, people thought they were some sort of special celebrity.  Which, granted, they were, but it still got fairly annoying.  

Being a werewolf Hale Alpha also helped, which put them at the top of the world’s species hierarchy.  Humans were right beneath them with their wisdom and courage, which Derek could see most of the class was comprised of humans, a few werewolves, and a couple hybrid-halflings like Finstock.  

The classmates’ eyes seemed to all have that all too familiar glow of dreamy wonder.  

Bowing to them, to put on a mild show, Derek immediately rose up to flash them all a dazzling smile and his frontal fangs.

“Derek Hale, Alpha Werewolf.  To my right is Vernon Boyd Hale, Beta Werewolf and my second.  By him is his mate Erica Reyes Hale, Beta Werecat.  To my left is Isaac Lahey Hale, Omega Human,” he explained, turning to his best friends and packmates.  Each of them smiled and waved to class, just like he had.

Vernon Hale, who preferred to be called Boyd, was a mountain of muscle and an endless well of confidence if his beaming face was any indication.  His eyes were a glimmering purple, a sign of his submission to Derek as his second in command.  He had an African heritage, with his ancestors coming from the shores of the Nile in Egypt before settling in America some 20 odd years earlier before he would be born.  

Erica Hale, Boyd’s mate since they were 13, stood taller than any of them, with platinum blonde hair.  Her curls gathered around her neck, with the tips a hot pink.  The Reyes werecat pack were of Celt Origin, migrating to America during the Black Plague that spread across Europe to save themselves from the were-devastating virus.  Like most Betas, she had deep blue eyes, like the ocean.

The shortest of all of them, Isaac Hale, was also the most fashion-forward and looked the most “Hale-like” of them all in his professional attire.  Unlike the rest of the pack’s name brand T-shirts and jeans, he dressed in khakis, a button-up, and covered in a vest and tie that fit his thin body perfectly.  With a mixture of Scottish and Irish heritage, the Laheys (Isaac included) were gifted in healing magic and a mixed bloodline that included what HAD to be a few faes.  Otherwise, Isaac wouldn’t have his golden eyes like he did.

While Boyd gave their life story from back in San Francisco, Derek glanced around the classroom.  He’d always been a picky Alpha when it came to his future pack, but there could be a few prospects out there.  Already getting the remaining McCalls later that afternoon, he'd hoped to expand quickly in the coming months.

Which, really, he could already tell there were a few interesting candidates.

Like the girl of Asian heritage with the long brown hair, whose aura was likely steeped in some sort of demon-like blood.  Or the douchy-looking blonde werewolf that kept playing footsie with the red-haired banshee in the third row.  Definitely needed to put out some feelers, the school had some strong looking bamfs.

Saving the last row for last as Isaac explained about Derek’s role as the future Alpha of Beacon Hills, Derek stopped.

He hitched his breath and curled his hand into a fist, feeling Boyd cringe behind him as he did it.  His second always could tell when something was off about his heartbeat.

**_"Pretty.  He's pretty.  Do you see the pretty Derek?  THERE IS THE FUCKING PRETTY, GO SAY HI TO THE PRETTY YOU ASSHOLE"_ **

Derek had never really felt the call of “mate” from his wolf.  He assumed it would happen eventually, but never figured how STRONG it would be.  He felt mildly woozy as he eyeballed the man before him.

Dead in the middle of the last row.  A lanky pale male that probably weighed a hundred pounds sopping wet.  Definitely a human.  His hair was half black and half brown, split right down the middle in its medium length, somehow natural by design.  He didn’t smell dye in the kid’s hair.  Also drawing Derek’s attention was a geometric black tattoo on his neck, composed of arrows pointing in every direction imaginable.  The tat was guiding him to exactly where he wanted to nibble on, HOT DAMN the curves on that guy's neck was nothing if not flawless.

Though none of that really mattered.

It was his eyes that caught Derek’s attention.

Silver eyes, like mercury, that seemed to have just minor tints of a pale lilac around the iris.

All for a second, Derek beckoned into those beautiful eyes.  He would have given his left nut for just a few more seconds to stare.  Okay, maybe not the left nut, but he would have probably given Boyd’s left nut to stare at those eyes a little longer.

Unfortunately, the male had lost interest in the Hale, turning his face back down to continue reading a rather bland looking book without a cover on it.

“Mr. Hale?  Is there a problem?” Finstock asked.

Blinking back into the real world, Derek turned to Mr. Finstock.  He also quickly realized that his pack had already sat down, and the entire class was looking at him and shooting curious gazes at him.  The introduction must have already ended.

“Oh uh…  I’m not in my underwear am I?  I’ve had that nightmare before” Derek asked, attempting to laugh his way out of the situation.

“I WISH YOU WERE!” a girl shouted from the back row.

While the class laughed, Erica wolf-whistled, and Boyd was cracking up beyond belief, Derek grabbed his backpack from his side and strode to the only available seat left in the classroom.  

If the world was really fair to him, that seat would have been near grey-eyes.  

Unfortunately, it was right next to the douchey looking blonde that would spend the next hour trying to make eye contact with him.

++++++

Derek growled when grey-eyes beat him out of the classroom.  The blonde douche, a Beta named Jackson Whittemore, continued to be extra annoying as he tried to worm his way into Derek’s lunch group.  He finally told the kid YES just to get himself some freedom to chase after the pretty.

Under normal circumstances, he would have followed the kid’s scent and found him on the spot.  Unfortunately, the kid’s scent was so fucking mild that it was practically invisible.  He'd have to ask about that later, because even people that worse scent-proof soaps and deodorants had SOMETHING about them that was trackable.

He went up through the tiled hallways, pushing past a wall of hungry teenagers to get inside the cafeteria.  Groaning as he saw the literal metric fuck ton (which turned out to be about 230) of students blabbing in various lines, tables, and floors, he figured there was no way in hell he’d find him.

Until he turned to the farthest corner in the cafeteria.  Unlike the other tables, an entire section was devoid of all life.  Except, of course, for grey-eyes.

Feeling his heart racing like never before, Derek made a beeline for him.  

As he got close, he could see grey-eyes popping a single bag of baby carrots into his mouth, one-by-one.  He was still engrossed in his book, eyes not straying even once as Derek got into his field of view.

Derek forced himself down, right across from grey-eyes.  He couldn’t really see, given that the guy’s book was covering his face, so Derek took a deep breath to compose himself.

“Okay Derek.  Super hot guy that’s making you all hot and bothered.  Probably a potential mate.  Don’t fuck this up.”

“Good morning!” Derek said energetically, smiling to reveal a set of sharp canines.

“It’s the afternoon,” the male replied back dully.

**_“You fucking MORON.  YOU FUCKED IT UP ALREADY.  FUCKING BRIMSTONE INSIDE OF A DEAD BUBONIC RAT UP YOUR ASS.”_ **

Derek laughed off his internal crisis as best he could.  “Yeah.  I guess it is…  Nice day though!  It’s a little cooler down here than it was in San Fran,” he said, going for the small talk angle.

“The weather is average for this time of year,” he replied, with enthusiasm equivalent of an apathetic neutral of the beige planet.

**_“THE WEATHER?  REALLY DEREK?  ARE YOU THAT STUPID?  MOTHERFUCKER, EVERYONE HATES SMALL TALK!”_ **

Shaking his head, Derek cleared his throat.  “So uh…  My name’s Derek.  Derek Hale.  What’s yours?” he asked, deciding to go straight for the moneyshot.  Metaphorically speaking.  He’d go for the moneyshot literally speaking…  Well hopefully within a few weeks if he’s being optimistic.

Lowering his book, grey eyes bore a dark glare into Derek for a few moments.  “To people like you, my name is Genim,” he replied curtly in a dry tone.  His facial muscles didn’t move an inch.  While the glare melted Derek’s loins into a lovely puddle, it was short lived as he went back to his story.

Derek raised an eyebrow and cocked a smile.  “People like me?  And what kind of person am I?” he asked playfully.  Ol’ grey-eyes here was feisty, even if he didn’t look it.  But Genim?  Weird name, but it fit him.  

Genim turned another page in his book, his eyes skimming across the pages eagerly.  “People who don’t know me, yet like to have some misguided notions on who I am based on predetermined stereotypes.  I’m guessing you either think I’m an intellectual and/or have a knot for guys that look smart, or I’m one of those cool loners that probably has a thrilling life history.  I assure you, I’m neither.  So take your knot and go stick it up your coal pipe, hopefully getting it coated in something other than your own shit,” he answered.

Genuinely taken aback, Derek chuckled, not sure how to take that.  Nobody really ever talked to him like that.  Well, some did, but they were generally in his own family.  This guy was Peter-level sarcastic.

“Well.  I admit you’re pretty handsome with those eyes of yours, but-”

Genim paused reading, slamming his book shut.  His mercury eyes were boiling.  “I’m not interested in anything you have to say.  Please leave me alone.  As an Alpha, you’re bound to fuck off when a Beta or Omega requests it of you.  I am requesting that you fuck off.  So do you need that statement in triplicate, or should I just tattoo it on your ass, since that’s where you seem to have your head up most frequently?” he asked.

Derek let his jaw drop.  A sarcastic smartass with a gorgeous set of eyes?  He HAD to have this guy.  He had never wanted anyone so much.

**_"Derek, he's so pretty!  He's got a mouth and sounds smart!  Derek, please kiss the pretty.  KISS THE PRETTY GODDAMNIT."_ **

Derek ignored his wolf.

The kid was right.  If a Beta or Omega didn’t want an Alpha’s advances?  He had to follow their wish, as much as it sucked.

Sighing, Derek pushed himself up and away from the table.  With his metaphorical tail between his metaphorical legs, Derek spotted his pack in the frontmost table, with blonde douche and his girlfriend.  Because naturally, that was the best imaginable consolation prize.

Taking his seat next to Boyd, Derek sighed.

“So do you want to explain you popping a knot in Health class staring at bony ass in the back, or…  Are we just going to ignore that and make awkward small talk with the locals?” Isaac asked, unwrapping his brown bag lunch and tossing Derek his own bagged lunch.

Derek rolled his eyes as he pulled out his barbeque sandwich, shoving most of it in his mouth all at once.  He was going to drown his sorrow in red meat and high fructose corn syrup.  “I did not pop a knot,” he lied, wishing he had a change of underwear.  

“So?  When’s he coming over?  What’d he say?  Is he cute?  Omega?  Beta?  Alpha?  Human?  Werewolf?  Does he share your crippling obsession with video games?” Erica asked, covering her mouth excitedly.

Boyd chuckled.  “Who cares!  Derek finally got off his high horse and picked a mate!  Maybe now he can rut without me having to feed him steak in the middle of the night and watch after his horny ass all the time,” he said snarkily.

Jackson, finding his opportunity, sneaked back into the conversation.  “So dude, who’d you pick?  I can definitely give you the details,” he offered.

“I didn’t pick anyone.  He wasn’t interested, so I backed off.  If you’re asking who I’m crushing on though?  It’s Genim back there,” Derek admitted glumly, thumbing behind him.  

The red haired Beta Banshee spat out her milk all over her mate.  

“Lydia, EW,” Jackson spat, wiping his face and shirt off.

Ignoring the arguing between the Betas, Derek felt his second’s angry grumbling beside him.

Boyd growled.  “Someone turned down MY Alpha?  What the fuck?  Does he not know a good catch when he sees one?  Where the fuck is he?  I’ll END him,” he spat, as his nostrils flared.

“No murdering sweetie,” Erica said, poking Boyd’s cheek.

Beta Whittemore rolled his eyes.  “Dude, trust me, I don’t care how hot ol’ Genny is over there, he is NOT worth your time,” he answered.

“Why’s that?” Isaac asked, munching on his sandwich and being quietly neutral in his corner.

Beta Martin, the red-headed banshee, pointed to her neck.  “See that mark on his neck?  The arrows?  Well, when he was like five or something, a demon bit and nearly killed him.  He survived, and ever since then he’s had MAJOR bad mojo since he cheated death.  That mark appeared, and now anyone that gets really close to him?  Like his parents and his adoptive mother?  They die in horribly tragic ways,” she explained.

“Seriously?  Holy fuck,” Erica said, standing up to glance at what she must have thought was the freakshow in the corner.  Which made Derek want to punch her in the nose, but he shook the urge off.

Jackson nodded.  “Lydia here’s a banshee.  Death is sort of her THING.  I’d think she’d know,” he answered.

Derek turned to Lydia.  “Is that true?” he asked.

The banshee tilted her head down.  “It’s like his entire aura is coated in black.  Death, sorrow, and illness, that’s all his soul is comprised of.  I don’t like to pass judgement, but…  Someone like that?  I can only imagine them becoming something like a serial killer or a murderer.  It’s why nobody goes near him, even the teachers throw him in the back row.  This entire town is scared to death of him,” Lydia explained.

“Ouch.  Well that’s a bitch slap to the face.  Nearly dies, loses his parents, becomes a social pariah?  Damn, he must be pretty sad,” Isaac said, shaking his head.

Derek turned around, eyeballing Genim.  He was still nose deep in his book, munching on carrots.  The kid didn’t look sad at all.  If anything?  He looked disinterested.  Apathetic.  Like he didn’t care.  

“Does he have any friends?” Erica asked.

Turning back to his pack, Derek met Lydia’s eyes.  

“He has a brother,” Lydia admitted quietly.

"That's a no," Isaac answered for her.

+

There were about a million other places he’d rather be than the McCall home.  Like looking for Genim, playing video games, working out with Boyd, or running a couple of miles with Isaac.

Not staying inside of a house that reeked of medicine, depression, stale tears, and angst.

But it had to be done.  The old Alpha Melissa McCall had passed her control over to younger son before going into her coma, who had no idea what he was doing.  Talia would be merging the McCalls and Hales and her age as an Alpha would put her over Scott and let her control Beacon Hills.  

Derek eyed over Alpha Scott McCall.  He had a dark tanned skin of a Hispanic heritage, strong muscles, and a solid figure.  Though his eyes had dark circles under them, he was clearly exhausted.  Running a region before one was ready?  Bad mistake.

Sitting on the floral patterned couch with his pack, Derek quietly observed the proceedings before him.

Talia, his aging mother with soft grey hair, was sitting across a tea table from Scott.  Scott was prepping the herbal tea, with some feign idea of what he was doing.

“How’s your mother doing Scott?” Talia asked kindly, patting the boy on the knee while under the table.

Scott sighed, rubbing under his eyes.  “Not well, she’s not got much time left.  They induced the coma a couple of days ago to make her a little more comfortable.  My brother and I…  We got to say goodbye.  I guess that…  I guess that’s a little comforting,” he said, fumbling with the silver tea pot to pour Talia a green liquid.

Talia took the teacup.  “I’m so sorry for your loss.  Alpha McCall was a good woman.  I hope we can do her legacy honor,” she said kindly, sipping the tea.  She cringed a bit at the taste, but kept sipping for Scott’s sake.

Nodding, Scott managed a weak smile.  “We're not giving up all hope on her, but...  Thank you.  Actually, I should thank you for taking my brother and I in.  It’ll be nice to have a little…  Normal again,” he muttered quietly.

“Oh, which reminds me…  My son Derek over there will be your official Alpha.  While I’ll be directly running the region, he’ll be training to take over when he comes of age.  He’ll administer the pack-claiming bite on your wrist after we’ve finished our business today,” Talia said, signaling to Derek.

Derek stood up, bowing to his mother and Scott.  “Nice to meet you Scott.  I’m sorry we had to meet like this, but I promise to take good care of you and your brother,” he explained.  He glanced around.  “Speaking of which…  Where is your brother?” he asked.

Scott seemed to relax back in his seat.  “Stiles went to visit mom and run by the bookstore.  He’ll be home soon.  I apologize for him not being here.  Stiles…  Stiles is a…  Well, he’s special,” he answered quietly.  

“It’s fine dear.  As long as he understands the proceedings, I don’t think there should be any trouble.  Is he alright with you giving over the territory to us?” Talia asked.

He shrugged in response.  “Stiles has no opinion on the matter.  Actually, knowing Stiles, he does have an opinion, but he never shares.  My brother’s kind of a selfish prick sometimes,” Scott admitted, with a rare smile.

Talia didn’t find the joke funny.  “Is his opinion a harsh one?” she asked cautiously.

Scott immediately shook his head.  “Oh God no.  If anything I’m sure he wanted mom to just hand it over last year.  Give us all more time together.  He’s not big on territory.  Stiles is just…  Well…  I wouldn’t count on him to be very useful to the pack in the long run.  He’ll provide in the traditional sense, just…  Not in a family-way.  Definitely not lovey-dovy at all,” he said in Derek’s direction.

Before he could adequately ask about the potentially insane new pack member, there was generally shuffling at the door, as a key entered the lock.

“Oh, that must be my brother.  Just a sec,” Scott said, standing up and bowing at Talia before taking his leave.

“He’s really uptight.  He needs a good fuck,” Erica said, pointing in the direction that Scott had ran off to.

“Erica, hush,” Talia ordered, pouring the terrible tasting tea back into the pot.  She proceeded to wipe her tongue over her suit sleeves.

“Yes Alpha,” Erica squeaked.

The pack had to wait all of just a few moments as Scott reappeared from the entryway.

Alpha McCall signaled to his left as an all too familiar male stepped by him.  “This is my brother, Omega Genim McCall.  Gen-...  Er, Stiles, this is the Hales.  They’re the people who will take over for mom’s job as Alpha of Beacon Hills.  Derek over there is going to be our new Alpha.    _Don’t be rude, they have enough money and influence to kill God_ ,” he said, whispering the last part under his breath.  

Derek felt his heart stammer loudly in his chest.  

Scott’s brother, his new packmate, was Genim.

Whose grey eyes were current burning a hole of death and rage straight into Derek's soul.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek had hoped he hadn't been too obvious about his unbearable attraction to Genim.  Granted, he had stared at those silvery eyes through the introductions, the signing of legal contracts, the pack merging ceremony, the uncomfortable small talk, negotiations, and all the way up until he felt Boyd elbow him in the side of the stomach.

“Dude, you’re on.  Alpha time.  Act it,” Boyd mumbled.

Shaking himself out of the daze that Genim put him in, Derek could see that everyone was staring at him.

“Derek…  As I was saying, it’s time to administer the bite.  All of the paperwork has been signed and the merger is complete.  As the lead Alpha of the Hale family, I hereby grant you Scott and Genim as members of your pack.  Please begin with Scott,” Talia ordered.

Standing up from the floral couch, Derek staggered over to the table where Genim and Scott’s negotiations had taken place.  

Scott was the first to stand, putting himself between Genim and Derek.  In a slow movement, he held his wrist out, placing it next to Derek’s mouth.  His body was shaking, clearly nervous.

Derek chuckled.  “I’ve done this before Scott, relax.  It doesn’t hurt.  Tell you what….  Count to three.  On three, I’ll give you the bite, okay?” he asked.

Nodding, Scott took a deep breath.  “One…  Two-”

Unhinging his fangs, Derek sank down deep into Scott’s wrist.  

Yelping loudly, Scott growled lowly into in throat as his arm and hands twitched in pain.  “ ** _Son of a…  LIAR_** ,” he exclaimed.

“Don’t feel too bad, we all fell for it too,” Boyd answered, laughing as Talia sighed at her son’s immaturity.

After a few minutes of letting the holes form Derek lifted his fangs from Scott’s flesh, lapping the holes with his tongue until they closed.  He pressed a kiss into the quickly sealing wounds.  “And so with your blood becoming one with my own, I do become a part of your soul.  Alpha Scott Hale, I shoulder your burdens and make them my own,” he said in a deep seriousness.

Glancing down, Scott saw it.  Right where the bite had been, a twisting triskele formed, created by the blood that had dribbled from the wound.  The blood turned black, just like ink.

A loud slap clapped on Scott’s shoulder.  Derek’s seriousness melted away in an instant, replaced with a warm smile.  “Welcome to the pack, man.  Glad to have you onboard.  I’ll take care of you, your brother, and…  Everybody,” he announced proudly.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac came to Scott’s said, shaking his hand, hugging him, and sharing excited conversations.

Derek smiled, watching Isaac flush at Scott’s touch, and holding onto the new Alpha a little longer on his hug than was probably necessary.  Or how Scott seemed to rest his head on Isaac’s hair and inhale his mild scent.  Boyd and Erica probably felt the uptick of both their chests, as the excited energy rushed through their body.  A mating spark, which was nothing if not adorable on Isaac.

“Genim?  Are you ready?” Talia asked.

Breaking the budding potential mateship of Isaac and Scott, Derek was renewed in his frustration with the Omega Human.  

Genim stepped forward, less than thrilled as he moved close to Derek within biting range.

“Long time no see.  Can I expect more creepy stalking in the future?” Genim asked.

“Nah Stiles, I’ll-” Derek said, cut off as Genim rose up his hand.

“Seriously, it’s Genim to you.  People like **_you_** don’t get to call me Stiles.  Got it?” Genim said, with a stern tone.

Boyd growled in Genim’s direction, which Erica slapped out of him.  

Sighing, Derek nodded.  “Genim, got it,” he answered, pouting in disappointment.  “You okay with this?  You did ask me to leave, after all.  This is sort of the opposite of leaving,” Derek said, with a quirked eyebrow.

Genim nodded.  “You being my Alpha and you being a pain in the ass blocking the good reading light are two completely different things.  Besides, your family is taking care of my mother’s hospital bills, and offered us a fair deal in the negotiations for the land.  I suppose there could be worse people in the world to be my Alpha.  Like the flaming blonde douchelord that would probably raise his ass to you if it meant being a Hale,” he said in a vivid smirk.

Derek snorted, laughing under his breath while Talia glanced at the newest Hale Omega in abject horror.  

“Okay then.  So new start?” Derek asked.

“Nope.  You fucked up your first impression, no do-overs,” Genim said, offering his wrist up to the Alpha.  His eyes met Derek’s.  It was as if there was a little more liliac in his eyes.  Barely any and could have just been a trick of the light, but Derek could notice it and knew better.  

“No need to count for me…   ** _Alpha_** ,” Genim said quietly.

Pretending that being called Alpha wasn’t the greatest thing ever, Derek took Genim’s wrist.  He felt the weak heartbeat, the cold touch of his skin, and…   ** _The spark._**

Electricity shivered through his veins.  Webs of flexing shocks, breaking out through every party of his body.

This punk human was making his wolf go downright insane.  

“Derek?  Problem?” Genim asked.

Never breaking contact with those gorgeous eyes, Derek laughed out loud with a bright smile.  “Nope.  No problems here at all,” he said, raising Genim’s wrist to his mouth.  In one quick motion, Derek sank his teeth into the flesh.

If touching Genim’s body was electric, actually bonding with him was pure lightning.  A slow burn trailed from his teeth, all the way to his heart.  The shock was remarkable, like an ignition to a flame.

Everything…  Everything felt so right.  Like his flawless life had finally been made complete.

As if on instinct, Derek removed his fangs from Genim’s wrists.  Those silver eyes cautiously eyed Derek.  There was no way his potential mate couldn’t have felt the connection.  The bond between the world’s dynamic classes crossed the lines of species frequently with narry a care.

The blood flowed from the wound, with Derek pressing a gentle kiss onto it.  A low-grade steam billowed from it, sealing the wound.  He took his time in closing it.

Genim shifted uncomfortably, his wrist still grabbed tightly by Derek.  His heart rate was elevated to an almost normal human level, like something had finally gotten kick-started in there.

“And so with your blood becoming one with my own, I do become a part of your soul.  Omega Genim Hale, I shoulder your burdens and make them my own,” he repeated, as he brought Genim’s hand to his heart.  “And I-  I pledge to you my-”

Taking his hand back, Genim backed away from Derek.  He looked over the newly formed triskele, sighed, and quickly stepped away from his new pack coming to congratulate him.  He sat down back at the negotiations table, turning away from them all.  

Derek frowned as his chest fell.  All the sparks were gone, as if his potential mate had cut off everything as violently as possible.

Talia bit her bottom lip, moving over to her son’s side and putting a hand on his shoulder, to support him.  Boyd and Erica joined her as well, patting Derek on the back.  

Scott exchanged odd looks between Genim and Derek, unsure of anything that had just transpired, but sensing the odd tension.

It would be the smallest of them that broke the chill wafting in the room.

“Welcome to the pack Genim,” Isaac offered, clearing his throat as he walked over and offered a hand to his new packmate.  Genim didn’t move.  

Everyone turned to Isaac and Genim, watching them carefully.

“You know…  I don’t expect you to realize this yet, but…  Just know that you’ve got people you can count on now.  That’s all I really wanted to say.  That…  And welcome,” Isaac said, putting his arms around Genim in the world’s most one-sided hug in mankind.  Once he was finished, Isaac patted Genim on the shoulder.

After a few moments of silence, everyone knew that Genim wouldn’t be saying anything anytime soon.

Talia cleared her throat, leaving her son’s side.  “Well…  That should just about cover everything…  It’s too late to move your belongings into our home, but you’re both welcome in our home if you’d like to pack an overnight bag.  Derek?  What do you think?” she asked.

Still crestfallen, Derek turned to Scott, figuring Genim wouldn’t answer him.  “You guys want to come over?  We can do a pack night at our place tonight to celebrate, the movers can move your things while we’re at school tomorrow, and…  We can go from there,” he answered, still a little on the frowny side.

Scott nodded immediately.  “Anywhere but here would be awesome.  Too many…  Memories.  Too quiet.  You in Stiles?” he asked.

Genim nodded once, still facing away from the rest of the pack, having long since picked up one of his new books and already delving deep into some other world.  

“That would be a yes from us then,” Scott said, laughing nervously.

Derek smiled a little bit from that news.  Pack nights were fun.  Generally reserved for heats, ruts, and full moons, it was a night to let everyone’s hair down and just…  Be themselves.

“Very well then,” Talia said, stepping away from the mess of teens.  “I’m heading home, I’ll call for the limo to pick you all up.  Be ready to leave in fifteen,” she said, taking her leave as she gathered up the contractual paperwork.  

“I’ll help you pack!” Isaac exclaimed to Scott.

Scott chuckled nervously.  “Uh, sure, awesome!  It’s uh…  It’s this way,” he said, flushing as he guided Isaac up the staircase, standing a little closer than was necessary.

While Boyd and Erica assisted Alpha Talia in cleaning up the mess, Genim stood up and made his way…

Straight to Derek.

“Do you have a cell number?” Genim asked.

Flabbergasted, Derek nodded to the affirmative.

“Good.  Now can you form a sentence and give it to me?” Genim asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

After fumbling with his cell phone, Derek sent his contact information to Genim, who'd fished out his phone from his pocket.  Within a few moments, he saw a new message had gone through to him.  He clicked on the message, which opened up a photograph.

A bland photograph of Genim.  A selfie, really.  A grumpy disinterested selfie with no smile and stiff muscles.  But the eyes....  They were there.  Scott and who Derek assumed was Melissa were in the background making goofy faces at Genim.

Derek glanced up eagerly.  "You sent me a picture of yourself?  Why?" he asked with gleeful optimism.  If he actually had a tail when he was a human, it would be wagging right now.  Did Genim actually care?

"You know the old saying.  It's a picture.  It lasts longer.  Quit staring at me, it's creepy and disruptive to my health and well being, Alpha," Genim quipped quietly as he moved past Derek and towards the hallway bedroom.  

Derek did stare.  Though it wasn’t the photograph, although that would get plenty of use in the coming evening hours.  It was at the rear view of his potential mate, which was just as pretty going as it was coming.

“Derek, do you see the pretty?  Tap that pretty!  But…  Maybe you should hug the pretty first…  Go check on the pretty.  Pretty needs a hug.  Hug the pretty.  The pretty looked upset earlier…  Be a motherfucking gentleman already.”

+++++

The limo had arrived several minutes earlier, and despite several calls up the staircase to Genim’s room, they’d all fallen on deaf ears.

So naturally, everyone decided Derek was the best choice to go get him.  Especially given that Scott and Isaac were shamelessly flirting back and forth, neither having the balls to actually man up and say anything about the obvious sparks between them.

Reaching the room at the end of the hallway, Derek peeked inside.  Genim was staring outside the window, holding an athletics bag in one hand and a stack of books in the other.

Before Derek could adequately speak, he glanced around the room.

Genim's room was just so...  

He wanted to say "Sad", but it wasn't the right word.  Because sadness implied a human emotion.  This room?  It looked like it belonged... Nowhere.  As if it were a vacant room waiting for someone to come and move in to.  

The bed was fitted with sheets, but had no pillows and no blankets.  As if comfort wasn't even a remote consideration.

His desk?  Utilitarian at best, with his school books stacked up in a corner, and pens carelessly laid out.  The lamp was a bargain store brand, with no personality whatsoever.

Derek wanted to **_weep_** at Stiles' closet.  Left open, he saw seven outfits hanging up, all bland greys, whites and blacks.  His jeans were all the same brand, all the same color, and looked fairly worn.  Underwear and socks were piled in the corners of the closet.

No television.  No games.  No rugs.  No posters.  No furniture besides the bed and the desk.  

His entire life seemed to be crammed inside of a worn leather messenger bag that he took to school, with about half a dozen books falling out of it, scattered on the bed.

Derek figured the movers would just need to do Scott’s room, because he and boyd could probably fit everything Genim owned under their arms.

“You’re staring again,” Genim mumbled under his breath.

Nodding, Derek sighed through his nose.  “The limo’s here.  Are you ready?” he asked.

“Just saying goodbye.  Again,” Genim said, turning away from the window.  He grabbed his school bag and slung it over his shoulder.  “I’m ready, Alpha,” he explained.

“You don’t have to call me that.  My name is Derek,” he said, as Genim gathered a few other trinkets under his bed.  

“I’d prefer we maintain a professional relationship, Alpha.  You’re my pack leader.  That’s all we are,” Genim answered, pulling out what appeared to be a pair of police badges from his mattress.  He placed them both carefully in his messenger bag.  

Derek frowned.  “Gen, you’re our packmate.  We’re more than just Alpha and Omega,” he said quietly.

“No, we’re _**not**_.  I have no intention of being anything else but Alpha and Omega.  It’s Genim, by the by.  Don’t give people nicknames,” Genim exclaimed.  Unlike his usual cool demeanor, grey-eyes was a little on edge.  Almost…  Upset about something.

Clearly irritated, Genim took his things and began storming off to the hallway.

Stopping Genim, Derek stood and blocked the doorway.  

“Did you…  Feel anything?  When I gave you the pack bite, I mean.  Anything?” Derek asked.

With his deep mercury eyes, Genim bore right into Derek’s.  “ ** _No._**  Just your fangs trying to stab me to death,” he answered.  He pushed by Derek, switching off the light

Derek watched his potential mate hurry down the stairs.  

“You’re a bad liar…  You know?” Derek whispered quietly to himself.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The Hale home, the recently purchased mansion on the outskirts of town, was an old log cabin made of the very wood from the forest around them.  Warm furs decorated the floors, with dark brown sectionals and plush seating big enough for a pack of twenty or more.  

All the latest generation gaming had been hooked up against a flat screen plasma television set, lined against a wall with a rockin’ surround sound system.  

Attached to the living area was a kitchen the size of a normal home’s living room with two fully stocked fridges and all the latest electronic appliances.  The Hales had designed the home with Derek and the youthful pack in mind, with all the remodeling taking the better part of a year to complete.

Everything had been perfect for his first pack night with the McCalls.

Though...

Pack night wasn’t as fun as Derek had hoped for, or even remotely thought it would be like.  Sure, Boyd and Erica play-wrestled with Scott over the leather recliner, Derek and Scott became eternal rivals in Call of Duty, Isaac and Scott made out after getting PLASTERED, and everyone had passed out on top of each other by 1 AM, but…  

It was empty.

Genim had opted out.

Actually, Genim opted out of everything.  He’d been living with them for several days, doing nothing more than going straight up to his room and not even coming down for dinner.  

Since the pack bite, Genim hadn’t spoken a word to Derek.  He hadn’t spoken a word to any of them, even Scott.  He just locked himself up in solitude, ignoring the many offers and pleas to join in the nightly TV or video game marathons.

Which is why Derek was still up by 3 in the morning on Saturday, mindlessly trying to play through an RPG on his xbox.  

_“Genim is upstairs.  You should check on Genim.  You won’t sleep till you know he’s okay.  Go check on him.”_

Pausing his game, Derek sighed.  “Fucking hell…” he mumbled under his breath.  Genim being Derek’s potential mate aside, he was full-fledged pack now.  Derek was going to be anal and worry about him constantly now, just like the rest of his dorky friends.

Trodding upstairs and being careful not to wake up his friends, Derek reached the third floor of the home.  Because, of course, Genim would pick to live on the floor that nobody else was on.

Derek could hear the slow breathing by the door at the end of the hallway, behind the one and only barely cracked door.  He raised an eyebrow.  For someone who enjoyed their privacy, Derek was surprised that Genim wouldn’t seal and lock his door.

He pressed the door open.  Unlike the room Genim had previously occupied, his new one had already been pre-furnished.  Like the rest of the rustic home, the furniture was wooden, with a crisp pine scent to it all.  The idea of the room, which Genim had picked to moved into, was to be like living in a forest, which is why there was a live tree in the dead center of the room that the house had been built around.  The branches and leaves from the tree came out of the roof of the house, right above the third floor.  

Old family quilts and furs were arranged on the reading chairs, next to a currently unused fireplace.  Shelves to the side of the room were empty, waiting to be stacked with books.

Derek chuckled.  It was the master bedroom, which he’d clearly called DIBS on while he was still in San Francisco.  Not that Genim knew that, he probably figured all the rooms were the same.  Derek hadn't made a fuss and just let him have it, the second floor master bedroom was just as good.

Though as Derek glanced to the bed, he noted it hadn’t been slept in or even had the covers pulled down.  It still had the "new room" feel of it, like nothing had been touched in the slightest.

_“Gen?”_

Ignoring the fear in his stomach, Derek stepped past the bed, finally spotting Genim as he zeroed in on the sound of slow breathing.  Who was asleep in the corner of the room, with his back to the wall, head barely supported by the wall.  Books were scattered about his feet, some open to random pages, while others were marked and highlighted.  He looked uncomfortable, with a scrunched face and gentle twitches to his feet and hands.

_“Good Lord…  What is wrong with you?”_

He moved closer, bending down to Genim’s level.  Looking at his shut eyes, Derek could see the tell-tale signs of REM sleep.  His eyes were flickering up and down sporadically, while his face contorted itself in a nightmarish pose of agony.

_“Genim is hurting.  Take care of your Genim.  Do it!”_

Bending down, Derek took Genim in his arms, holding him bridal style.  His heart crushed as the boy flinched at the touch, even in his sleep.  Instinctively, Genim’s arms flailed mildly in their sleep, trying to push Derek away.

“Hey…  Relax.  It’s okay Gen,” Derek whispered quietly.

Derek carried him to the air mattress right under the tree in the room, laying his bony body over the soft furs that covered the bed.  He smiled, watching Genim melt into the comfort, and ease in his facial muscles.  His fists grasped the fur, as his cold body warmed at the touch.

_“Genim is cold.  Take care of your Genim.”_

Trodding over to the chairs by the fireplace, Derek grabbed his grandmother’s quilt.  She’d hand-stitched it with his great-aunts and his mother when Talia had been a little girl, and eventually got passed down to him.  He unfurled it, throwing the multicolored square pattern over Genim.  

“Thanks....mom” Genim grumbled in one long half-sleepy haze, pulling the covers closer to his body.

Satisfied that Genim was mildly warm and comfortable, Derek took a deep breath.  “Good night Gen,” he said, turning away from his potential mate.

It was then that he was met with the sad red eyes of Scott.  He stood in the doorway, arms folded and gaze crestfallen.

“Was he sleeping in the floor again?” Scott asked as his breath caked with a half-sigh.

Derek nodded as he moved outside of the room, shutting the door behind him and Scott as they stared at each other in the hallway.

“Coffee?” Derek asked.

+

After brewing a cup of what Derek hoped wasn’t too unbearable coffee, he and Scott moved to the back deck.  

“So…  I guess you figured Genim’s a little fucked up in the head, am I right?” Scott asked.

“Well, he’s not exactly a ball of sunshine and rainbows.  Actually, he’s not even a ball of rain and thunderstorms.  He’s like a ball of bland tofu with a pepper on top, just for the kick in the balls,” Derek replied, sighing quietly to himself.  

Scott nodded like he understood the metaphor.  “Stiles…  Stiles has had a rough life.  Ever since he was little, it’s like…  The world just decided to shit all over him in every way imaginable.  Demon mauled him when he was five, he’s died like three times since he was five from various injuries, lost both his parents, and now…  Well, my mom’s dying now too.  So..  Yeah, sucky life was sucky,” he explained.

Derek cringed.  “Ow.”

“Yeah,” Scott answered, taking one drink of Derek’s coffee and throwing it far far away into the nearby woods.  He wiped his tongue off.   “Stiles tried for a long time to be optimistic.  He tried to be strong, even changed his name so he could try and be someone else after his dad died.  But when my mom got diagnosed with leukemia…  I think that was the last straw.  I mean, a guy can only take so much before he cracks.  Hell, I don’t think I would have handled it like he did.”

“No wonder he’s moody,” Derek said.  He folded his arms, trying to picture losing his family.  Losing his mom, his brothers, his sisters, his dad, his uncle?  Damn.  Not a pleasant thought.

“Oh, and the best part?” Scott said, sitting down against the deck’s railing, sliding down to the ground.  “Every fucking horrible thing in his life happened on his birthday and happened to people he loved the most.  I know he blames himself.  The kids at school call him “cursed”, which is bullshit, but I think he’s started to believe it himself.”

Derek looked down, seeing his reflection in the pond just below them.  “That’s insane,” was all he could really muster out of his chest.

“Yeah…  And Stiles thinks…  No, I guess he knows that mom’s going to die on August 23rd, his birthday.  If she does?  I don’t know what he’ll do.  That’ll just be the nail in his coffin.  I don’t see him coming back from that one,” Scott said, curling his knees up under his chin.  “I don’t know what to do.  It’s like he’s quit caring about everything.  Like he’s trying to be heartless on purpose.”

“To keep people and the hurt away,” Derek said, suddenly feeling like an ass.  Trying to be all romantic and courty with someone who feels like that?  Of course they’d try to cut off all ties or bonding attempts.

“Isaac says…  You’re seeing him as a mate,” Scott whispered.

Derek nodded.  “Yeah.  One look and I knew.  When he joined the pack Monday afternoon, I knew,” he said, shutting his eyes.  “There’s no mistaking it.  He’s my soulmate, my missing half.  I think he knows too.  When I bit him, he had to have felt it.”

Scott managed a thin smile.  “I think…  I think you’d be the missing half to him too.  As weird as that sounds.”

“Really?” Derek asked.

Scott rested his head on the back of the deck’s railing, keeping his eyes shut.

“Don’t ask me how I know that, but like…  That picture Stiles gave you?  That’s the selfie we took on his birthday last year, before the bomb dropped on mom’s illness.  He wouldn’t give that out as a joke.  Plus, if he really wanted to be alone tonight, he would have slammed the door and locked it.  I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, but…  It’s like he’s leaving breadcrumbs.”

Scott forced himself up, baring into Derek’s eyes.  “I think he wants someone to bring him back.  That’s the kind of guy Stiles is at heart.  He’s…  He’s so bullheaded that I think he’d flip off God right in his face if he ever got the chance and tell him “this is MY life, fuck off”.  But to get there, Stiles just needs someone to show him what it’s like to have a heart again, how to feel again.  Once he’s back, I think…  I think he can pull himself up and out of this.  No, I know he can.  My brother’s stronger than all of this.  He’s just lost,” he explained.

Derek watched Scott let a few stray tears drop down his face.  

“Stiles deserved better than the life he got.  He tried so fucking hard to get that life, and…  Now he’s sleeping on the floor again, because he doesn’t think he deserves a bed.  Fucking moron…  Fucking piece of shit moron…” Scott said, trying to laugh through his tears.

Clenching his hand into a fist, Derek broke the cup of coffee he’d been holding.  He didn’t even feel it.

_“Genim needs you.  Genim needs you Derek, as a friend.  Take care of your Genim and make him well.  For you, for Scott, the pack, and for Genim.”_

+++++

The following morning was quiet when Derek saw Genim sauntering down the staircase.  

By the toaster, Derek turned his attention back to the Eggos he’d starting fixing for himself and his pack.  His turn to cook on the pack chore list usually ended up being frozen dinners.  The grease fire of 2001 would NEVER be repeated.

Genim yawned loudly, walking wordlessly past Derek.  He reaching into the right fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

_“Take care of Genim.  For him, the pack and for you.”_

“We’re going out today.  My sisters and uncle are coming to see my new house, so we’re making a pack day of it.  I’d like you to come meet them,” Derek said, catching the waffles in mid-air as they popped out of the toaster.

“It’s Saturday.  I’d like to get some reading done.  Can I meet them another time?” Genim asked.

Derek shook his head.  “My sister Laura is an Alpha.  It’d be rude not to have my entire pack with me.  I’d prefer you come,” he answered back quietly.

“Fine,” Genim replied quietly, starting back towards the staircase.

“Oh, and Genim?” Derek said, spinning around and taking a deep breath.  “Don’t sleep in the floor again. You’re twisting a knife in Scott’s heart.”

Genim tried to open his mouth as if to argue, but stopped mid-stance.  His face dropped.  “Scott saw me last night?” he asked.  The boy’s face had shattered into a million different pieces of sad.

Derek nodded, sighing as he realized what a dick move that probably was.  Though it had to be said.  “Yeah.  You realize that you being all mopy affects more than yourself, right?  For fuck’s sake, Scott cried manly tears last night.  So yeah, don’t do that.  That’s a bad thing.  Bad Gen, VERY BAD!  No waffles for you!” he said, in a half joking chastisement.

The glare on Genim’s face, a rage-filled glare of murderous intent, was far better than seeing him heartbroken.

“No waffles, really?  Oh my, how am I ever going to survive without the artery-blocking frozen treats?  Gee, I might as well go jump off a cliff,” Genim spat, rolling his eyes as he moved further inside the kitchen, gently scratching his stomach.  

“Grab a plate and shut your face-hole, my frozen waffles that I re-heat are delicious,” Derek said, smirking.

Genim did actually grab a plate, if only to be contrary, snagging a few waffles from the plate Derek had been building up for everyone.

“I guess you and Scott had a lot to talk about then.” Genim said, as he moved to snag a tray of butter that was softening in the warm kitchen.

Derek nodded.  “You sir, win the award for shittiest life ever.  I’ve called the local award shop to get you a trophy and Guinness is on their way,” he said, trying for a more lighthearted joke.

“Not an award I’m happy to take, sorry,” Genim replied.  His face crumbled.  “I wish he hadn’t done that.  I don’t need your pity.  Though I am going to need some syrup, these things are dry as hell,” he answered, picking up the half-cold waffle with disgust.

“Then I won’t pity you.  In which case, I should remind you you’re on dishes this week for pack chores.  Have fun cleaning the syrup off these,” Derek said, grabbing a large bottle of pancake syrup and chucking it at Genim.  

The human caught it, rolling his eyes.  “Where’s everyone else?  I’m sure you’d rather have a thrilling conversation about COD with Scott or Boyd than dealing with my mouth,” he answered.

Derek laughed.  “Well Boyd and Erica are _tied up_ at the moment if you catch my drift, and your brother is probably in his bedroom having an internal crisis over asking Isaac out, while Isaac is in his room having an internal crisis over your brother not asking him out yet,” he answered.

“So hormonal teenage bullshit?  Great, you’re stuck with me a while, sorry,” Genim said, pouring an overabundant amount of sugary syrup over the waffles.  

Derek snorted.  “That’s what Alpha said,” he said, laughing through his teeth at the poor joke.

“A knot joke.  Cute.  My Alpha has the brain and maturity of an oversexed thirteen year old.  We’ll be dead by next Tuesday,” Genim said, shaking his head at the shameful joke.

Satisfied that he’d made enough waffles to stuff his gob with, Derek took his overwhelming plate towards the table, sitting across from Genim on the wooden antique table.

“Well my Omega has the brain and maturity of an old man that needs a diaper.  Seriously, I’ve GOT to get you a TV or shit in that room.  How can you just sit in there doing nothing all the time?  I’d go _ **insane!**_ ” Derek proclaimed.

“I have my books,” Genim replied, cutting through several of his waffles.  “Books let me be someone else until I’m done with them.  Let me have the eyes into somewhere else.  TV is just full of shitty teenage shows with insane screenwriters who have no idea of what they’re doing half the time,” he said.

Derek wagged his finger in Genim’s direction.  “Bullshit.  Walking Dead, Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, and the AMC Classics?  Now that is quality entertainment,” he explained.

“Two of those are based on books, and Game of Thrones is just a snuff novel written by a sadist.  TV is BORING Derek, I don’t need one,” Genim replied.

“Should I get the poligrip, old man?” Derek said, waggling his eyebrow.

Before they could adequately settle the issue, a clinking metal noise came running down from the second floor.  The sound came from a bright red collar around the neck of fully grown German Shepherd.  His face, like most of his underbelly, was a solid black, while the rest were patterned in golden fur.

“BUD!  Morning!” Derek said, ruffling the dog’s head as he passed by their feet.

Bud barked once, panting with his tongue out.  

“Water?  Got it,” Derek said, scooting out from the table and walking over to the nearby dog bowl.  

While Derek tended to Bud’s hydration, the dog made his way over to Genim, sniffing in and around his general direction.

“Yeah, no.  Please to be calling off fido, I don’t like dogs,” Genim scoffed, gently nudging the German Shepherd away.  Which failed, as Bud instead laid his head on Genim’s lap, whining through his nose.  His eyes gazed up at Genim for pets, oh so longingly.  

Derek pouted.  “Oh come on, who hates DOGS?  Dogs are the best,” he said, taking a non-buttery waffle and throwing it under the table.  

Surprisingly enough, Bud didn’t leave Genim’s lap for the stray waffle.  He nuzzled himself happily there, shutting his eyes and yawning.

“There is a drooly dog sleeping on my lap.  Unless he wants to be Chinese food in a run-down shitty joint in some back-alley, I suggest that you get him off me,” Genim said, poking the dog on the back repeatedly.

“HEY.  No being a sourpuss before 9 AM, and no dissing Bud, he’s my…  Bud.  It’s all pack law,” Derek said, staring seriously.

“I am NOT a fucking sourpuss!  You’re just a goddamn hyperactive bunny on crack!” Genim said, pushing Bud off his lap entirely.  Though Bud just got irritated and climbed entirely on Genim, pushing him off the chair and into the floor.  It was easy, considering the German Shepherd was actually heavier and taller than Genim.

Bud made himself comfortable, laying out on top of Genim and using him as a pillow.

“Aww, he likes you,” Derek said gleefully.

Genim sighed, giving in and rubbing Bud’s head while huffing in the dog’s face.  “I’m getting the moo goo gai pan tonight.  Stupid dog,” he growled.

Bud just wagged his tail playfully.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Uncomfortable suit and tie?   **Check.**

Fancy french restaurant that no teenager would ever go near?   **Check.**

Watching his packmates shift uncomfortably in their semi formal attire?   **Check.**

Yep, the trifecta that always happened whenever his big sister visited.  Though the biggest "non-surprise" was that she was already fifteen minutes late, sending a text that she'd be there "any minute now, order without me".  

Seated next to Genim, Derek glanced around the french bistro "Deux", about a twenty minute drive out of Beacon Hills and into the nearest actual "city".  Elegant silk tablecloths, fine white china, the little waiters fully dressed in their nicest Alfred "Batman Butler" attire, and a champagne on ice all combined to create an atmosphere that screamed "stuffy".

Which, granted, half of the Hale family fit into the "stuffy" persona, but definitely was not Derek in the slightest.

"There aren't any prices on the menu and there are like nine forks in front of me...  HELP," Scott mumbled quietly into Isaac's ear, panicking behind the nice red leather menus.

Isaac nodded back, sighing.  "Get used to it.  When we're on summer break and winter break, you won't BELIEVE the places they make us go to.  This is TAME," he answered, patting Scott on the shoulder.  "Just order what you want, Laura is paying, and she's loaded," he answered.

"What's an escargot?" Scott asked a few minutes later.

Isaac quickly took Scott's menu out of his hands.  "On second thought, I'll order for you.  How about a rare steak with a baked potato and a nice leafy salad with shrimp?" he asked, laughing quietly to himself.  

Turning to Genim as Scott and Isaac continued to flirt back and forth with some pretty bad food-related puns, Derek noticed that the newest Omega seemed rather...  Calm.  Unlike the rest of his pack, Genim had cleaned up pretty nicely, borrowing one of Isaac's suits.  While not the best fitting fabric, it hugged him in all the right spots, accentuating his strong shoulders and curved butt.  Derek thought he looked natural in the formal setting.  

"If we can order anything, I'm getting the Wellington.  Medium rare, because I don't have that same aversion to tasting blood like you animals do," Genim said, still perusing the other side of the menu.  "This is actually really nice.  Your sister has good taste, unlike certain fast-food addicted Alphas I know," he said snidely, staring at Scott and Derek seriously.

"DUDE, at least at McDonalds we can get like a MILLION burgers and not bankrupt a small country," Scott said, flipping off Genim behind a menu that Isaac generously provided.

Then it happened.  

"Well at least our new Alpha lets us eat somewhere every now and again where I don't have to order into a clown's head!" Genim replied, rolling his eyes at Scott and turning to Derek, and smiled.  

Granted, it was a curt "can you believe Scott is such a food dork" smile, and not even remotely close to a "Derek please kiss me and ravish me" smile, but was A SMILE.  

Derek beamed, feeling his heart flutter just like he'd experienced when he first saw those gorgeous.  "You get WHATEVER you want.  Seriously, don't ever worry about money, I've got your back," he answered immediately.  He wanted to buy Genim all the nicest things in the world.  Whatever he wanted.  Wellingtons, suits, ties, wines, anything.  All he cared about was seeing that smile again and more frequently.

"We've talked about this.  I sent you a picture, please quit staring," Genim said, turning his eyes back to his menu.

"Sorry," Derek said, turning back to his menu.  

He had a few moments of sweet reprise, reimagining that smile over and over in his head, until the sound of glasses crashing to the floor brought him out of his daze.

"Oh...  Oh my God, I am SO sorry, I'll pay for that!" cried a woman's voice.

Boyd, Erica, Isaac and Derek all sighed in unison.  

"The walking trainwreck is here," Boyd scoffed.

"I heard that!" the woman said, slamming a massive purse down in Boyd's crotch, much to his pain and discomfort.

Derek looked up and grinned.  His big sister Laura, having finally breeched the big three-zero last Christmas, still looked like a woman in her early twenties.  Her slick black hair was neatly combed and styled into curls that covered both sides of her shoulders.  Like Derek, she'd dressed out in an Alpha suit and skirt, with enough diamond jewelry to crash the market hanging on her ears, around her neck, and on her left hand.

"Der-bear!  God I missed you!" Laura said, moving to hug her little brother, virtually sitting on Genim's shoulder as she did so.

Derek hugged her back just as hard, patting her on the shoulder.  "Lar-Lar, it's been a year!  How's hubby doing?" he asked, as they both let up on the bear hugs and Laura took her seat on the opposite side of Derek.

Sighing dreamily, Laura picked up her menu and began tracing through the options with her long nails.  "Stephen is just the most wonderful husband EVER.  I come home every night after managing the Hale investments and he's got dinner waiting every night.  Then we fuck like rabbits after dessert.  AH.  Let me tell you, finding my soulmate has really made my life a million times better," she answered eagerly.

Putting aside the image of his sister fucking into a chest deep deep down in the land of "please forget this Derek, get the brain bleach", Derek laughed as he signaled to Scott and Genim.  "So, the pack's gotten a little bigger since you last came.  Laura, I'd like you to meet Scott and Genim.  Scott's an Alpha werewolf, and Genim is an Omega Human," he explained.

Laura discarded her menu and inspected both of them, immediately pouting.  "Okay, Derek, I'm not going to judge, but are you seriously just trying to get the world's biggest harem of sexy men to horde all to yourself?  First Boyd, then Isaac, and now you've got Tanned Boy Next Door and Super Playgirl Twink?  GOD, this is not fair!" she said, gaping her mouth at both.

Genim choked on his water, nearly doing a spit take on Boyd and Erica.  

"So uh...  Am I the Adonis or the Playgirl?" Scott whispered in Isaac's ear.

Flushing, Isaac cleared his throat in order to chase away the mental images of Scott in appropriate clothing for either role.  "So uh uh...  Laura, where's Cora and Peter?  I thought they were coming with you?" he asked.

Derek frowned, having finally realized that himself.

Laura rolled her eyes.  "Cora got sick on the plane from motion sickness, then got sick in the car from motion sickness again, and finally barfed all over Peter on the elevator from the return of motion sickness.  So she's hugging a toilet while Peter tries to get vomit out of his Armani suit," she said, interrupting her own story as the waiter came by and took all of their orders.  

Once all the orders were taken and the table was cleared for the salad course, Laura immediately began inspecting the new pack members.

"So, I heard about your mother.  I'm so sorry, both of you," Laura said, as she poured thousand island dressing over her greens.

Derek noted that Genim seemed to distance himself from the conversation, while Scott tried to put on a brave smile.

"I'm not giving up on mom.  Mom may have given up, Stiles may have given up, but she's still getting the Fenrir treatment.  There's hope," Scott answered proudly.

"The what?" Isaac asked curiously.

The weres around the table all glanced away sadly.

"The Fenrir treatment is a last effort medical procedure.  Since werewolves used to have the ability to heal, before it got bred out after years of cross-species relationships, the Fenrir treatment tries to bring back that lost aspect of our species.  Mostly, it's injecting synthetic blood into the bloodstream that are supposed to contain werewolf healing DNA from purebloods.  Though the success rate is...  Minimal," Laura answered.

"One out of every ten thousand," Genim said coldly.  Derek watched the Omega literally stab a piece of lettuce as though it were some living being.  

Scott frowned.  "Yeah, well...  At least it's not zero," he replied, pushing his greens around on the plate awkwardly.

"Rounded down, it  ** _is_** zero," Genim spat.

The tension was thick, and Derek tried to clear the air.

"Well, we're glad to have them.  I've also got a couple of other people I've got interviews with later next week.  A banshee, a Beta werewolf, a Kitsune, and there's a human archer that's been really impressing me.  We've got plenty of rooms to fill, so I'm looking to fill them," Derek said, trying to smile.

Laura smiled.  "That's wonderful.  Mother's been hinting about expanding your pack.  She's also been bugging me about grandchildren.  Which I'm hoping to turn over to you here shortly," she said playfully.

Derek scoffed.  "Yeah.  And how am I going to give mom grandkids?  I'm going to be 17 in like two weeks," he answered.

"Have you thought about breeding one of the Omegas?  They're old enough to go into heat and bear children.  Little Dereks with them would be so _**cute,**_  I'm sure of it!" Laura said with a devilish smile.

Both Isaac and Genim stopped eating mid-chew, and turned to Laura incredulously.  Scott looked mortified and scooted his chair a little closer to Isaac.

Derek groaned, rubbing his forehead.  "Laura, I'm not about to breed Genim OR Isaac, even if they are old enough and in my pack.  That's just...  God, that's like 1960s old people bullshit,"

"I'm kidding!  God, you've all got sticks up your asses," Laura said, rolling her eyes.

Genim finished chewing and turned to Derek.  "I take back anything bad I ever said about you.  There actually _**are**_ Alphas out there worse than you and Scott," he whispered, frowning.

"Genim, I was just kidding!  Smile a little!  Besides, admit it, my brother is not the worst catch in the world!" Laura said, signaling to Derek as though he were a prize.

"I'm not even fishing.  Fishing sucks," Genim answered, sighing exasperatedly.

Derek was going to **_kill_** Laura.  Genim had been smiling not twenty minutes earlier, and now he was back to his pissy self.

"Well...  I _**know**_  what will make little sourpuss over there smile," Laura said, grinning deviously.

Erica gasped.  "Oh my God.   _ **Please**_ tell me it's time for embarrassing Derek stories!  Please Please Please!" she said.

"Everyone's favorite storytime!" Laura announced.

Boyd and Erica were already laughing, as Isaac tried to hide his snorts and gasps for air in Scott's shoulder.

Derek growled.  "Laura, don't you fucking dare," he said, already embarrassed about what horrific nightmare she'd pick out of the chest of embarrassing darkness that was Derek Hale ages 1-14.  Carefree childhoods tended to do that.

"Dude, listen to this, she's fucking hilarious," Boyd said, slapping Genim on the back.

Derek turned and...  

Genim actually was listening, his eyes reluctantly on Laura's.  

"When Derek was a toddler, he _**loved**_ hugs.  But the only thing he loved more than hugs was animals!  So I think he was like about five or six when we went on a road trip during the summer to New York.  We stopped at some park in Oklahoma because Derek just HAD to go for a run.  The little brat was like the energizer bunny and had to blow off steam constantly or he'd shift into his wolf and _**whine all the damn car ride like a damn puppy wanting a doggie treat**_ ," she explained.

Derek's heart sank.  "Oh Lord, not this one..." he said, already hanging his head low in shame.

"Well, while he was running out in this little forest, he came across an unusual animal he'd never seen before out in San Francisco.  A little black furry creature with a white stripe down its tail!" Laura said, already snorting to herself.

"Oh my God," Scott said, landing his head against Isaac's head, snorting loudly.

"So yeah, Derek, being the animal lover and lover of hugs that he was, picked up the skunk and hugged it as tightly as he could.  My mother and I saw it happen, and we could do NOTHING.  Derek then screamed "HI NEW FRIEND, I'M DEREK!"  Within a second, the skunk sprayed him from head to toe," Laura said as she tried to compose her reddening face.

In unison, the weres all began laughing in Derek's direction.

Derek tried to hide his head behind a napkin, but stopped as he saw Genim covering his mouth in a mixture of shock and laughter.

"I know you probably don't know this as a human, Genim, but we have sensitive noses.  Offensive smells like skunk spray?  That is just about the single best weapon to use against us at close range, because it is all we can focus on," Laura said, shaking her head as she gagged in the memory.  "I think he and the rest of us threw up at least thirty times on the car ride back, he STANK so BAD, mom finally had to just had to stay at a hotel for two days when we should have been driving.  He was naked in a tub of tomato juice nearly the entire time, just crying and sobbing and puking into a bucket like a sad baby.  And the entire time, he keep screaming "I just wanted to be friends Laura, why'd he have to pee on me!?"" Laura said, cracking up and laughing.

The rest of the table was causing quite a scent, to the discomfort of many of the nearby patrons.  Though Derek didn't care, because among their laughter was Genim's.  The Omega actually snorted, leaning his head on Derek's shoulder.  

"Oh my God....  Derek, that is so _**sad**_ , I just can't, I...  I can't even breathe!  That is sad, pathetic, and so heartwarming that I think I’m going to die here, _**thanks asshole**_ ," Genim said, holding his gut in place.

_Mate is happier.  Make your Genim happier than happier.  Take care of him Derek._

Derek cleared his throat.  "Oh please, that's _**tame**_.  You're throwing me softballs here Laura, you're off your game," he said, waving off the deathly embarrassing story as though it were nothing.

Like he'd hoped, Boyd was quick to pick up the slack.

"Okay then...  How about I tell you the one where Derek went into rut in the middle of History class and had to go into the nurse's office to dry hump and knot his hand for three hours until Talia could come get him?" Boyd said.

_Derek was firing his second._

"Nah, tell the one where Derek had a crush on Mr. Lancaster, our fourth grade teacher, and actually brought him presents!" Erica offered.

_Derek was firing his second's mate._

"Nononono.  We tell the one where Derek got made fun of in gym class showers last year for having a hairy ass, so he tried to shave it all off with one of those back-shaving tools and accidentally cut the fuck out of his butt!" Isaac exclaimed with gusto.

_Isaac was dead._

"Okay, the last one!  Gotta hear that one!" Genim shouted, pointing in Isaac's direction.

Derek smiled.  Isaac was getting a new video game.

+

Dinner was delicious, without a doubt.  Though while Derek loved his steak and the company, what he loved more was the near-orgasmic look on Genim's face as he bit into his beef wellington.  Or the way the Omega nearly moaned as he bit into the world's creamiest cheesecake.

Without a doubt, the pack was going to be going out once a week somewhere nice.  While everyone else could take or leave the fancy ambience, Genim was in his element there.  He wondered why, but chose to ignore it.  All that mattered is that Genim liked it.  If Boyd and Scott could have a night dedicated to inhaling hamburgers, Erica had her night dragging them to Greek or Thai restaurant, and Isaac's home cooking another night, then Genim could have a fancy night.  

Though as soon as the dinner was over, Laura had gone back to her hotel and the pack had dismissed into their usual pile of pajamas on the couch in the Hale home.  Like most Saturdays that wound down, the pack stayed up all night long doing anything remotely fun.

With Erica’s night to pick, she did as always and picked a marathon of an old TV series.  That night, Scrubs was on the menu.  Derek was fine with that, really, despite the angry glare on his face.

Though just like the pack night before…  There was a gaping hole.  

This time, it was more than just Derek that felt it.

“Why doesn’t Genny ever come hang out with us?” Isaac asked, turning up to Scott.

Scott sighed.  “I told you guys, Stiles isn’t a people person.  I’ve tried, trust me,” he explained.

“Yeah, but we’re not people.  We’re his PACK.  That’s sort of different,” Boyd replied, shifting Erica on his lap.

Erica nodded.  “I agree.  I mean he’s sort of not the asshole I thought he was.  Did you see him tonight with Laura?  Holy fuck, I want to bottle his sass and sell it,” she said with a pouty frown.  “Derek go get our Genny.  I want him here.  It’s so WEIRD having him in another room.  It’s…”

“Sad,” Scott finished for her.  He leaned on Isaac’s shoulder, making himself comfortable in the man’s neck.  “It’s sad.  My mom always said it’s like missing one of your kidneys.  You can live without it, but your life will probably suck,” he finished.

Derek nodded, standing up and scooting past the tangle of limbs, tripping over Isaac’s spider-long legs as he made his way up the staircase.  

Trying to maintain a calm demeanor, Derek reached the third floor master bedroom.  Like the first night Derek had come inside, the door was cracked open.

Still, Derek knocked, considering the bedroom light was still on.  “Genim, it’s Derek.  Can I come in?” he asked.

“It’s open,” Genim replied.

Cracking open the door, Derek was met with Genim in his usual corner, with his nose firmly planted in a book.  A new addition, however, was Bud that had taken up residence at Genim’s side.  

I’m getting that dog a steak and a lady friend if it kills me.

“I’m not sleeping in the corner, I’m reading in the corner,” Genim said immediately, cocking an eyebrow while he turned a page in his book.  “Also, your dog has an obsession with touching me.  I’m upgrading him to a pizza.  Pepperoni Pup, yum,” he said dully.

Derek folded his arms.  “Uh huh.  Because the comfortable recliner in the corner by the fireplace is just so uninviting.  I also reiterate my prior statement that nobody can actually hate dogs,” he said.  Though he did noticed that Genim had a fur blanket over his lap, and a pillow supporting his back in the corner.  The bed was slept-in, in a messy tangle of sheets that probably was never made.  Derek spotted his grandmother’s quilt was curled up in the middle of the bed.

“Meh, it’s not a comfort thing.  I always read with my mom in the corner, and this way I sort of…  Still am,” Genim said, shutting his book and glancing up at Derek, keeping eye contact.  “So…  What do I owe my Alpha’s visit?  Besides being wrong about dogs, that is,” he quipped.

Bending down to Genim’s level, he leaned against the wall as well.  “The pack would like you downstairs for pack night.  We’re watching Scrubs, and…  Well, it’s sucking without you there,” he explained.

“I’m right here.  I’m literally not even 50 feet away if we took away the second floor and didn’t count the space between,” Genim answered, not breaking contact.

Derek chuckled.  “Yeah, but…  You’re not there physically.  I know you don’t get this since you’re not a were, but…  You’re edging your way in our hearts, and weres are cuddlers.  We cuddle what we love,” he said quietly.

“I’m not a were.  I’m a human.  A human that’s not fond of being around people,” Genim answered.

Two weak thuds in Genim’s chest.

“Liar,” Derek said, smirking.

“Excuse me?” Genim asked.

Derek patted Genim on the leg.  “I’m a were.  I’m a human lie detector, and you just lied,” he answered.

Genim sighed.  “You’re right.  I’m not actually human.  I’m Xulu, King of the Dwarf people that live underground,” he said, thumping his chest proudly.

Three rapid thuds.  His pulse was rising.

“Liar.  Also, you’re nervous,” Derek answered.

“No I’m not.  You’re an asshole.  That’s the only problem here,” Genim said, cracking back open his book.  “Go away Alpha.  I told you, that’s our relationship.  You’re the Alpha, and I’m the Omega.  You’re not my friend, and neither are the people downstairs.  So fuck off and quit trying to be nice to me,” he spat.

Defeatedly, Derek stood up, sighing angrily to himself.  

_Great job.  Mate is angry, you’re an idiot._

Derek zoned in on Genim’s heart, hearing the rapid heartbeat.  He saw Genim’s fingers, twitching as he tried to thumb through the pages he was pretending to read.  Though subtle, Genim was shaking.  

**_Stiles just needs someone to show him what it’s like to have a heart again, how to feel again.  Once he’s back, I think…  I think he can pull himself up and out of this.  No, I know he can.  My brother’s stronger than all of this.  He’s just lost._ **

Remembering Scott’s words, Derek could feel his mate’s…  Pain.  The pain of feeling again after being numb for so long.   

Derek clenched his fist.  “So I’m the Alpha, right?  You’re the Omega, right?” he asked.

“Are you hard of hearing?  Did that skunk melt your brain?” Genim said, shifting uncomfortably in his corner.

“So I’m your Alpha, right?” Derek asked.

“I’m also apparently playing 20 questions,” Genim replied, slamming his book shut again.  “What of it?” he said angrily.

Derek folded his arms with a cocky smile on his face.  “As your Alpha, I’m commanding you to join us downstairs for pack night.  If you won’t make the decision for yourself, I’ll make it for you,” he said with an upbeat tempo.

Genim’s mouth gaped open, as frustration set in.  The little triskele mark on his arm was throbbing.  “You fucking did not just-”

“You heard me!  If you want to be Alpha and Omega, then that’s what we’ll do.  Get your ass, your fur blanket, and my dog and make yourself comfortable downstairs,” Derek exclaimed.

Growling obscene words under his breath, Genim did as he was told, stomping up to Derek and pushing him against the bedroom wall.  “You think you’re so fucking smart, you little smug bastard.  At least I don’t have the hairy ass of a grizzly bear that needs a weed whacker to manscape,” he said, flicking Derek on the nose as he made his way out into the hallway and downstairs.

Derek sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He wondered if he’d done the right thing.  He wondered if he was pushing Genim when he shouldn’t be.  He wondered if all of this was just him wanting to be nice to Genim, or him wanting to get Genim to love him back.  

Though despite the wandering, Derek still forced himself downstairs, and turned to look at the couch.  Which was quite the sight to behold, and Derek smiled immediately.

Erica and Boyd were on the right and left of Genim, leaning on his shoulders as pillows.  Scott was on the floor below Genim, rubbing his head against the Omega’s legs.  Isaac was in his lap, laid out and using Genim, Boyd, and Erica as human beds.  Bud was stationed on top of Isaac, and was wagging his tail in such a way that each wag hit Genim in the chest.

“I hate all of you,” Genim said angrily.

Two thuds.

Derek smiled.  “ _Liar,”_ he thought to himself.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Everything was right.

Warmth.  

A heartbeat.  

Arms touching him, holding him in a loving manner.  

Stiles hadn't felt that in years, not since his mother died.  He flickered his eyes open, seeing the sunlight beaming through the downstairs windows of the Hale home.  He remembered falling asleep sometime during the TV marathon.

He tried to move, get up and stretch, but couldn't.  Wiping his eyes, he was able to take in his surroundings.  

First and foremost was Derek's bare chest, whose pecs he'd been using as makeshift pillow, as he'd laid in a face-down position.  The warmth and heartbeat had been his Alpha's.

However, Scott and Isaac had clambered on top of him in the night, both barely an inch from falling off the couch.  Their arms were wrapped around him, holding onto his stomach for dear life.  The arms had been theirs.

Erica and Boyd were with Bud on the recliner nearby, all wrapped up like a nice comfortable burrito in a large fur blanket.  In his sleep, Boyd had rested his head on Erica's shoulder, his lips sleep-pecking her neck.

Another large arm wrapped around Stiles's back, crushing him in a sleepy bear-hug.  Which was Derek, muttering something in his sleep, holding Stiles tightly against his chest.  

 

_"They're not awake.  Just enjoy it while you can.  When they wake up, you can be your pissy self again."_

_“It’s a slippery slope.  Touch him, and you’ll regret it.  You’ll feel again, hurt again just wait.”_

 

Stiles rolled his eyes.  While he didn’t have a wolf, he was trapped so much in his own head that he might as well have had one.  His annoying other self was “logical Stiles”.  Logical Stiles had a lovely way of making him keep his feelings bottled up.  Though Logical Stiles was generally…  Well, he had good arguments.  Logical Stiles kept him from feeling pain, so he had to be doing something right.  The logic cut his heart away, keeping the suffering to a minimum.

 

_“Don’t do it.”_

_“Fuck off.  Any respectable man or woman would do this.”_

 

Stiles laid his head back down on Derek's chest, placing his ear right over his heart.  He laid his hand on Derek’s abs, feeling the tight muscles.

Thud after thud rang through Stiles' ears like the bells of Notre Dame.  The resonated with his own, and soon found himself drifting back into lulled daze.  All of it was comfortable, familiar, like home.

 

_"Enjoy the moment while it lasts.  You can't have this forever.  You can't have any of this, do you understand?  It’ll all just going to fall apart, over and over again."_

_“Shut the fuck up.”_

_“You know I’m right.”_

 

Nodding in agreement with himself, Stiles sighed and put his arms around Derek, trying to take in as much as he could while his Alpha was asleep.

While Stiles would never have the same nose as a werewolf or know what a “scent” was, Derek smelt of his Old Spice deodorant and a musky cologne that probably cost more than Stiles’ first car.  A mild sweat joined it all together to create a lovely aroma that his Stiles right in the dick.  

Even without a view of the nether regions, Derek’s bare chest and neck were enough.  Apparently his ass wasn’t the only thing that needed shaving, with a mild pelt of hair covering his upper body and trailing all the way down to his groin.

If Stiles ever had a type, Derek would have been that type.  A fuzzy bear with a heart of gold.  Everything Stiles knew he wasn’t.  Stiles was a cold fish with rotting mold for a heart and a tongue like a razor.

Inhaling deeply, Stiles leaned into Derek further, letting his eyes fall shut again.

 

" _Maybe...  Maybe I could have just a little bit?  A friendship?"_

_"Sure.  Just like your friendship with Scott?  I'm sure Derek won't mind getting the shit beat out of him by a parental figure and nearly killed.  No, really, go right ahead.  That’s the right thing to do"_

_“How the hell is it my fault that Rafe was a fucking monster?”_

_“Because you were born, idiot.  You know why you can’t have nice things.  Because you fuck everything up.  You’re cursed, just like everyone says you are.  Why even bother to deny it?”_

 

Stiles let go of Derek, and raised his head off the man's chest.  He positioned his body off of his mate and into the crook of the couch so that he didn't shift Isaac and Scott into the floor.  

 

_“Fine.  We’ll do it your way, asshole.”_

_“Good Stiles.  In the end, you keeping your soulmate alive is probably the biggest act of love you could ever hope to give.”_

_“Great.  I get to be the self-sacrificing asshole with no future to hope for that everybody hates.  Yaaaay.  Just what I always wanted!”_

_“You’d rather be the selfish murderer?”_

_“I never killed anyone.”_

_“Directly.”_

_“Just fucking shut up already.”_

_“Because of course everyone you love dying on your birthday is a coincidence.  Of course Stiles, you’re so wise.”_

_“Shut...up…”_

 

The crook of the couch was like the land of hell.  Leather sucked, because it trapped heat like a sponge, and Stiles was already sweating his balls off.

Though it wasn’t just the fabric.

Just being that close and not touching Derek HURT.  His chest was on fire, heart thudding as though it were going to explode.

 

_"What the fuck is this?!  I'm not supposed to feel anything, I cut that away YEARS ago.  I shouldn't...  I can't...  Damn..."_

_“Stiles…  Calm down.”_

_“ **It hurts, bitch!** "_

_“I told you not to touch him.”_

_“ **So sue me for wanting to touch my soulmate**!  Like it’s a fucking crime to want to be with the person that’s meant for you!   **So sorry I wanted just a tiny bit of happiness!”**_

_“And this is why you hurt.  Good job, no really, wonderful thinking.  I mean, it’s only going to get worse from here.  You know what’s coming down the pipeline.  I wonder how Derek will die?  Probably in front of you and his family, devastating them forever.  Maybe Isaac will suffer, and your brother will lose someone else because of you.  Oooh, but then there’s Erica and Boyd.  Just think of the trauma if they died!  All because you had to open up your heart.”_

_“ **It wasn't my fault!** ”_

_“Everything is your fault.  All of it.  If you’d died when you were supposed to, none of this would have ever happened.  You know that’s the truth.   You’re just a selfish person, wanting more than they deserve.  Death.  That’s what you really deserve.  People like you deserve to be alone.”_

 

Stiles clenched his chest tightly.  He'd handled the shitty childhood.  Getting mauled?  Fine.  Watching Snoopy die in his arms while it whined and cried and convulsed into its death like no puppy should?  Ow, but eventually fine.  Watching Scott come out of the hospital with both arms broken, thirty stitches in his face, and a clawed up back that was completely bandaged?  

That’s when the pain set in.  The pain of knowing that everything and everyone that got near him was just one birthday away from getting hurt in some horrific way.  

Though the hurt was... Manageable.  There were days it would be gone completely, and others where it ate him alive.  He could deal with it, like the shitty periods he’d had since he was thirteen and presented as Omega.  

He tried to be strong.  Tried to become a new person and hope for a brighter tomorrow.  The Stiles from back then would have been hoping right along with Scott on the Fenrir Treatment working.  He'd get out the fucking pom poms and do a cheer.  He’d be researching and fighting to find ways to make the treatment take better.  Getting Melissa on a diet to improve her chances.  Anything.  

That Stiles would have cared.

Though…  That Stiles was gone.  Long gone, replaced with logical Stiles.  

After his mother died, he thought the pain would never go away.  The hurt, the tears, the hatred of everything and everyone around him.  He hated God, hated life, and curled into bed for a solid month, letting the hurt gather and multiply.  He channelled it all into the gym, all into the summer police camps they offered students to learn self-defense.  Watching the drunk bastard that killed his mom get life in prison for the murder of a cop?  That's what had finally set the numb in.  

It festered, like a mold, taking hold in his heart and branching out everywhere throughout his body.  The pain was gone, but not in the way he'd ever hoped.  Little things like paper cuts didn't even register.  He'd had the flu for three days before realizing he was actually sick.  Caring left his body, as if he didn’t want to feel.  

His therapist just claimed he was stuck on the fourth stage of grief, depression, and would eventually get better with time and support.

Then?  The numb turned into cold.

When John died...  He didn't even cry.  John's death was just another August 23rd for him.  Another shitty memory.  Another loss.  The cold lasted for months.  Like a zombie, he went through his motions.  He stopped seeing his therapist.  Functioning was hard enough, actually seeing and talking to someone about his feelings was not a possibility.

Scott's mother had been the one to try and crack him open.  He’d let her in, just like Derek had been trying the last week or so.  Now?  Well, now she was dying.

He’d sworn to never feel again.  He let the numb take over, and he’d never care again.  Stiles would never let someone else die because of him.  Logical Stiles did most of the day-to-day after that.  Stiles felt like he was constantly on autopilot, distracting himself with books when he “felt” again.  The books took him elsewhere.

Really, it’d worked wonders.

Up until he saw those fucking red eyes in Health class.  Red eyes, like cindered flames on a campfire.  Warm, loving eyes.  He’d stared at them as long as he could before he’d forced himself back to his book.

Logical Stiles hadn’t been happy with those eyes.  Those eyes were trouble.  Those eyes made his heart “feel”.  

"Genim?" Derek said sleepily, pulling Stiles back onto his chest and hugging him tightly.  He yawned, revealing the set of pearly white fangs that Stiles really appreciated.  

Stiles didn’t object to being snagged off the sweaty leather.  Or being put back on McManly’s chest.  The last night had taught him it wasn’t worth fighting the cuddle werewolves.  There wasn’t anything inherently sexual about it, it was just…  Weres showed love a lot more physically than any other species.

"Last night was fun...  We're doing pack nights every weekend now, okay?” Derek said groggily, half nuzzling Stiles with his head.  

Stiles swore he heard something in the back of his head, choosing to ignore it.  

“Yes, because cuddles borderlining on groping is just a wonderful thing.  Also, you have awkward morning wood that’s pressing on my stomach, so that’s a thing,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

Derek flushed.  “Yeah, well, I’m a horny alpha 90% of the time.  Boners are a thing,” he answered cockily.

“So then taking a black light in your bedroom would not be a wise thing?” Stiles asked with a curt grin.

“Only if you like seeing whitewashed walls and a laptop full of knotting porn,” Derek replied.

“Ew.  Do not need to know about your porn stash or your masterbation habits,” Stiles replied, snorting through his nose.

“You don’t have porn or masterbation habits?” Derek said, laughing.  He ran his hand over Stiles’ back.  The Alpha immediately frowned.

"Genim...  You are like a fucking popsicle.  Boyd, throw me the blanket," Derek gripped, yawning loudly again as he caught a fur blanket mid-air.  He wrapped it around Stiles, much to the Omega's surprise.  Once he was covered up, Derek pulled Stiles up his body, kicking Isaac and Scott into the floor with an audible thud and loud protests.  Stiles didn't say a word as his Alpha turned into the big spoon, curling around him and becoming the world's largest heated blanket.  This was the kind of warmth he enjoyed.

Audible groans came from the wooden floor below as once-sleeping couch partners felt the pain.

"Asshole, I was sleeping," Scott mumbled in a monotone, curling Isaac in his arms as they fumbled for a pillow off the couch to share.  

Isaac sighed.  "Genim's his favorite, might as well get used to the second-rate treatment around here," he grumbled, yanking Scott's shirt off his body, and resting on the man's pecs.  "That's okay though, because you're my new favorite....  Mate," he said, pausing at the end of the word.

Scott smiled with his eyes closed, pulling Isaac closer and licking a stripe up his neck.  "Mate," he answered quietly.  Isaac was giggling, Scott apparently finding a ticklish spot and abusing it with his tongue.

Stiles rolled his eyes, not really needing to see his brother get his mack on with Isaac.  Though he was thrilled to see Scott happy.  Scott didn’t have much in the way of “happy” these days.  If it came from an Omega, and if it came from his soulmate?  Well, all the best for him.

"If you two fuck with me in the room, I will go get the coldest bottles of water out of the fridge and dump it on you.  Your dicks will SHRIVEL inside of your bodies," Stiles said.

Derek chuckled, sending warm shockwaves through Stiles' body.  That man's laugh was contagious.  

Again, he could swear he heard something yelling at him in the back of his mind.  Yet, he couldn’t bother to listen.

"But no, seriously, if you two mates need to go do some claiming, please take it to a bedroom.  I do not need to see you two making a baby," Erica chimed in, running her hands through Bud's head.

Isaac groaned.  "We are not fucking.  We're just having aggressive PDA while Scott's boner is pressed up against my thigh.  That’s what happens when we get kicked to the floor," he answered.

"Minus nine respect points Isaac.  Do not need to know anything about the brother boners," Stiles said.

"Pack law#99.  There will be no talk of brother boners, brothers boning, boning bros, or Boyd's boner," Derek said, in the most serious manner he could image.

"How the hell did I get involved in brothers boning?" Boyd asked.

"Ew.  Do not need the mental image of you three in a three-way.  No thank you.  My mate is mine, get your fucking mind out of the gutter, that's where MY mind belongs," Isaac said.

Stiles laughed, leaning into Derek's warm body.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Stiles caught himself immediately.  Those loud voices?  Logical Stiles.

The cold was...  Fading.  Then, in a flash, it was all back.

 

_“Have you not listened to a thing I’ve ever said?  What are you doing? **Quit** talking!  Do you **want** them to die?”_

 

“Genim, you okay?” Derek asked immediately, running his hands through Genim’s hair.

 

_“Get away from him.  Death awaits yo-”_

 

Stiles growled under his breath.  

 

_“You know what?  Fuck you.  Get out of my head.  If you want to tell me I told you so later, then you can do it LATER.  I’ll keep trying till I can’t try anymore!  This pack is worth another try!”_

 

“I’m fine Derek.  Just fine,” Genim said.  He sighed, taking Derek’s hand in his own.  “Remember when you bit me?” he asked.

Derek spun Stiles around to face him eye-to-eye.  Stiles could see Derek’s eyes rippling in flames.  Excited, loving flames.

"Yes!  Absolutely!  It was awesome, I mean, I-...  Dude, when I bit you, did you…  The sparks, and the heart and the…  Did you-” Derek said, stumbling awkwardly over his words.

Stiles huffed, knowing he had to put Derek out of his misery, or he’d hyperventilate.  “Yes, I’m your soulmate, quit stammering you swooning teenage ball of sex hormones.  I felt it too.  I felt the sparks,” he answered.

Derek’s heart was thumping like a rabbit, and Stiles fear for a moment that he was going to pass out.

 

“ _Stiles, you’re making a mistake.  He’ll die.  They’ll die, get hurt, or make you feel pain.  Do you want that?  Do you want to be miserable again?  Do you want to hurt?  That’s all life ever gives you!”_

 

Gritting his teeth, Stiles turned to Scott.  His brother was looking at him expectantly, hopefully, with that stupid puppy grin of his.  There would be no turning back at this point.

 

_“I want life to give me something else for a change.  It’s either life or death.  There isn’t a middle, and I’m not going to try and find one.”_

 

“You can take me out, try and woo me.  I guess.  Not like I have anything better to do in my love life, you are sort of my soulmate slash wolf mate thing, and you’d be damn lucky to have me to be honest,” Stiles said.

Of all the reaction’s he’d been expecting…  Derek picking him up off the couch and into a swinging hug was not one of them.  Neither was Scott and the rest of the pack crashing into him to form the biggest group hug known to wolfkind.

“Genim, I swear to God, you won’t regret this.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!,” Derek said, pecking a kiss on Stiles’ cheek.

 

_“You’ll regret this.”_

 

Stiles felt his mouth form a solemn frown.

 

 _“Yeah.  Yeah, I probably am.”_ he thought glumly.  

 

Derek quit spinning, nuzzling Stiles’ nose and inhaling his mate’s scent.  “Genim…  God, you’re awesome.  It feels so freaking good to have my mate here…  My fucking beautiful mate Genim,” he said, burying his head in Stiles’ chest.

For a moment, Stiles smiled, pushing away logical Stiles as long as he could.

“For people like you…  I guess…  I guess it’s Stiles.” he whispered.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**_In August of 2007, Stiles Hale would be “viciously” attacked and “bitten” by a “demon”.  This would ultimately introduce Stiles to a pseudo-father figure he’d forever admire into his adulthood and a little sister he’d always wanted but never had a chance to have._ **

++++++++++++++

 

Despite Stiles' "enthusiasm" early Sunday morning, Derek noted that even when his mate was comfortable, he maintained a stoic silence about himself.  After Isaac and Scott had finally excused themselves to dry hump in the comfort of their soundproofed room, Stiles had made himself just as scarce that Sunday morning.  

He'd walked around the house for some time in search of his mate after cleaning himself up in the shower, until he eventually spotted Stiles safely perched in the top of a tree branch.  As always, the aloof human was deep in some sort of book, not wanting any company except whatever was in that thick skull of his.  Derek noticed how deep in thought Stiles always seemed to be, as if he were in a neverending battle with his own mind.

Still, he seemed to have a moderate amount of color in him now, so Derek tried not to think much of it.  

He didn't bother to go retrieve his mate.  If Stiles hated being around people as much as he said he did, he was probably on overload from the previous evening.  He chose to let Stiles have his alone time, while Derek dealt with the other obvious issue at hand.  His first  ** _real_** issue as an Alpha.  An issue that Talia had thankfully left to his own discretion.  Not that she could do anything, given she'd already left to Hollywood to deal with a nearby pack's claim of debt to the McCalls.

Though this issue wasn't all that big of a deal.  Just Scott and Isaac, sitting across the dining room table from him, holding hands and flushing from the sparks of contact.  Derek could smell their puppy love all over the house, little flares of pheromones that kept forcing him into awkward erections.

“So…  Obviously, we want to be mates, and I’d…  I’d like to court Isaac officially,” Scott admitted quietly.

Derek tried to give off the best fatherly/brotherly/broly aura he could.  To hell if Isaac was an Omega in his pack, or even a pack member, Isaac had been one of his best friends since childhood.  Isaac was his brother from another mother, just like Boyd.  He deserved the best in the world.    

“I mean…  I can’t really go all out with my mom the way she is, but…  Mom made me and Stiles both promise we wouldn’t put our lives on hold for her.  She’d be pissed if I didn’t at least start courting Isaac.  Maybe once she gets better, we can talk more serious stuff,” Scott said, laughing nervously with his bright optimism.  

Isaac smiled.  “Derek, I really like him.  When we shook hands at the pack bite ceremony, I could feel the sparks.  He’s my soulmate.  This last week just proved it further.  I can’t stand the thought of being away from him!” he exclaimed.

“I see…” Derek said, massaging his chin as though he were the godfather.  “Now…  Should we move into the parlor, where I’ve got my collection of antique guns?  Or…  Would you prefer a more mainstream veiled metaphoric threat regarding the safety of my best friend?”

Which just made Isaac furrow his eyebrows.  “Okay, enough bullshit.  We asked you alpha, because that’s courtesy.  But if you say no to our relationship, I’ll tell Stiles about the time in ninth grade when you shit your pants and Boyd had to sneak you out of school,” he said, pointing at the alpha’s chest.

Scott turned to Derek.  “Seriously, what have you not done?” he asked.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Oh shut up.  Fine, date my best friend.  You’re an Alpha yourself, so I know you’ll protect him.  Not that he needs it, Isaac’s hands down one of the best magi I know,” he explained.

Scott, surprised, turned to his mate and grinned.  “Seriously?

Isaac thumped his chest proudly.  “Master healer here.  Hell, I’m just about on the same level as a full fledged exorcist.  Just gotta master banishment chants and I can send those asshole demons straight back to hell where they belong,” he answered.

“Dude. That’s awesome!  Can you like set people on fire?!” Scott said, eyes falling dreamily in Isaac’s.

“Yes he can,” Derek answered, folding his arms angrily.  “In fact, when I was fifteen, he had the cops and fire department-”

Their loving moment was broken up by a loud scream, the sound of a branch breaking, and a loud roar.  The sound shook the house, striking fear in all three of them.

Derek’s eyes flashed red immediately.  Scott wasn’t that far behind him, and Isaac was up on his feet.  The three dashed outside the front door, Derek and Scott in a half-shift.

The three stopped short of where Stiles had been reading, not a stone’s throw from the main house.

Derek forced himself into his human form, grumbling angrily under his breath.  Scott was still in half-shift, growling in confusion as Isaac and Derek both shook their heads.

“Relax Scott…  It’s just her holy pain in the assness,” Isaac said, patting his mate on the back.

Sighing, Derek shook his head.

Stiles was on the ground, pinned by a wolf pup that was sat upon his chest and licking his face repeatedly with a long tongue.  The female pup had a tight-fitting black athletic stretching armor that had shifted with her.  Her grey fur was spotted with white highlights under her stomach.

“I’m guessing Peter has no idea where you are.  Or Laura for that matter,” Derek said, chuckling to himself.

Stiles was far from amused.

"Derek, I **_demand_** you to nuke her," Stiles said, pointing at the wolf who was still licking him on the face.

“Cora, get off him,” Derek ordered.  

When the pup was less than willing to do so, Stiles shifted under her, putting his foot  in her chest and kicking her to the side.  He spun around, pinning the wolf’s neck to the ground.

“Here I wanted to play nice,” Stiles said, in a half-growl.

Struggling underneath Stiles, she shifted back into a human, with her athletic clothing shifting along with her.   More lithe, the ten-year-old Cora Hale wrapped her arms around Stiles’ neck, giggling wildly as she clung on for dear life.  Her long black hair slapped Derek in the face as he tried to grab her away from the frothing rage that was his mate.   

“HIYA!  You’re fun and you smell like Derek!  Are you Derek’s boyfriend?  Sissy says Derek has a REEAAAAALY cute boyfriend now!  Are you the really cute boyfriend, because you are really cute!” she said, in an explosion of words.

Stiles rose an eyebrow.  Derek could feel the heat, even through Cora’s body.

Derek yanked his sister off Stiles, growling at her face.  “Cora, how many people has Boyd and Erica called?” he **_demanded_** , knowing good and well who the big mouth had been.  Boyd had always been on his mother’s “bribe” list, spilling the goods on anything “big” that happened in Derek’s life.  Traitor.  He’d pay later, and pay dearly.

Cora brought a finger to her mouth, humming colorfully.  “Umm…  Me, Uncle Peter, Uncle Andrew, Aunt Sara, Dad, Mom, Grandma Hill, Grandma Zeltie…  Uh a lot!” she said colorfully.

Slowly, Derek turned to Stiles in what he hoped was an apologetic flashing of teeth.

“ _ **Cora Alexandreas Hale!**_ You are in _**deep**_ trouble young lady!  I’ve had to trek through the entire town, smelling that god-awful perfume you wear!” a dark voice howled from not that far away.

Cora gulped loudly, hiding behind Derek.  

“This is your own fault, you realize that, right?” Derek whispered.

“Uncle Peter sounds mad…” Cora muttered.

“Hopefully he’ll _**end**_ you,” Stiles said, brushing the leaves off his clothing.

Cora pouted.  “Derek, your boyfriend is _**mean,**_ ” she said, hissing through her fangs.  

“Not as mean as me when I take away your cell phone and laptop,” a man growled.

Derek turned, watching as a man in his late thirties pushed past Stiles and bent down to Cora’s level.  He was dressed nicely, in tight fitting jeans and a shirt that definitely too “young” for him.  His brown hair was in soft short spikes, carefully tended to.  Peter Hale, his uncle, and the Hale family’s lead Omega.  His golden yellow eyes weren't backing down from Cora's deep red ones.

“Cora, sweetheart, there are certain things that ten year olds do not do.  Sneaking out of a hotel room to meet your big brother, traveling miles on foot as a wolf, and _**not telling the person who is in charge of your safety and who would definitely be murdered by your mother if anything happened to you?** _  That is a thing that ten year olds should not do.  You’re grounded for a week,” the man said politely.

“Uncle Peter, you are EVIL,” Cora exclaimed.

While the adult and child fought back and forth in increasingly angry tempos, Derek stepped away and joined Stiles, Isaac and Scott.

"Stiles, Scott, I'd like you to meet my Uncle Peter Hale, and my little sister Cora Hale.  They’re both insane little people," Derek explained.

Stiles just folded his arms, rolling his eyes.  “Yeah, no, I get that.  I get that feeling pretty much since I’ve met you,” he answered, pointing to Cora  “ _ **Nuke her**_ ,” he said darkly, shaking the ripped and tattered pages of his book that had been scattered to the ground in what Derek knew was one of Cora’s patented bear hugs.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Cora happily settled into the Hale log cabin.  She and Bud made themselves at home on Derek’s lap, hogging the couch while Boyd and Erica were banished to the floor for their betrayal in calling the family about last night’s events.

She went on and on about her getting tested positive for “Alpha”, how her mother was already planning on making her a pack leader, and how their father was taking her on a hunting trip to Alaska over spring break.  Cora rambled about the idea of bringing a pet moose home, and hoped that Derek might take care of it for her if mommy said “no”.  

Foolishing nodding to everything she said, Derek was only half-listening.  He’d missed his sister, for sure, but his attention was elsewhere.

Derek hadn’t kept his eyes away from the kitchen area, where Peter and Stiles had taken up residence since returning to the Hale Home.  And naturally, Peter had been an asshole and angled himself to make eavesdropping downright impossible.  Stupid werewolf acoustics.  

Isaac rolled his eyes.  “Oh my God, please quit staring at them, you’re going to melt your eyeballs out,” he said, sighing from the side as he busily wrote out the answers to his history homework.  Scott was not so subtly coping every answer he could read, and Isaac didn’t mind in the slightest.

Derek felt his face darken as Stiles laughed as something Peter was saying.

“What on earth could they have to talk about?  My uncle is hundreds of years old, he belongs in a fucking wax museum,” Derek said darkly.

“He’s thirty eight,” Boyd countered.

Derek growled in a half-roar, with Boyd holding his hands up in submission at his still angry Alpha.

Isaac chuckled.  "Derek, they're both Omegas.  I doubt that Stiles is going to “leave” you for Peter.  I even more doubt that Peter would give up his practice and freedom for another Omega,” he answered.  Sensing his Alpha was still perturbed with the entire situation, Isaac sighed.  “There are certain things that Omegas aren't comfortable talking about with Alphas or Betas.  Peter’s been there for me a lot, he’s kind of seen it all and done it all.  It’s nice to have someone other than you or Boyd to talk to about…  You know, personal stuff,” he answered.

"Like what?" Scott asked curiously.  His face pouted at the idea of his Omega not trusting him.

Isaac thought for a few moments, tapping his pencil against his homework.

“Like the whole children thing.  At least for me, when I see a kid or a baby, I have an unnatural urge to get sexed up.  It passes after like two minutes, but holy hell is that the horniest two minutes of any of our lives,” Isaac laughed jokingly, still working on his homework.  “Oh, or maybe the fact that Omegas see other Omegas and sort of coo around each other.  It’s a comfort thing.  Like a pack outside of the pack.  Peter's probably being a support system for Stiles,” he explained.

There was complete silence, as the pack exchanged curious looks.  All of that was news to them.

"Or topics that gross Betas and Alphas out.  Like the fact that male omegas bleed out of their ass once a month, while female omegas bleed out of their vagina.  It's a layer of internal lining that gets revenge on us for not being pregnant.  Cramps and bullshit like that, Peter’s got some good home remedies and tricks for tolerating it.  Fucking sucks ass, by the by," Isaac answered.

The look of abject horror from everyone’s faces, including Cora’s, brought a snort to Isaac’s face.

"Oh my God, you guys seriously didn't know about Omega Cycles?  What are you, four?  This is like basic sex-ed shit they teach you in fourth grade.” Isaac asked, snickering to himself.

Scott just blinked to himself.  “So that time Stiles said he spilt punch on the couch...  And we didn’t have any punch…” he said, eyes going as far away from the situation as he could manage.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"I never figured the thing would get stuck there, or that I'd spend my 29th birthday in the hospital as doctors poked and prodded my ass.  Let that be a very important lesson in safety and not thinking with your heat.  Or _**never**_ get drunk at a hospital party after-hours," Peter said, in full deadpan.

Stiles couldn't help but laugh, nearly spitting out his coffee in the process.  He smiled to himself, surprised at how much he didn’t hate Peter Hale.

There was a calm demeanor about him, with a cultivated humor and just a minor twisted sense of humor that could paint him as a psychotic freak, or a supernatural comedian.  Fine line there.

He was also incredibly handsome, a solid 9.75/10.  A 10/10 if he actually wore a shirt that didn’t belong in Baby GAP's premie collection.

More importantly though, he was an Omega.  An adult Omega that wasn’t mated.  An adult Omega that hadn’t had any kids.  An adult Omega who apparently had a very successful career in medicine.  Dr. Peter Hale, who was his own man.  A loner.  Living proof of what Stiles had always tried to attain.  

A very successful Dr. Peter Hale, who came all the way from Los Angeles to help Melissa’s Fenrir treatment.  News that Peter had shared with Stiles in private, away from the pack.  

Yet, somewhere along the way of discussing advanced blood treatments, Peter's life as a doctor in a large hospital outside of San Francisco, they’d come to the topic of Omegas, heats, and just about everything in between.  He never realized it, but they'd been talking for well over two hours, going through several cups of coffee.

“But really, I suppose we all have that heat every now and then.  You’re young, enjoy the mild ones while you can,” Peter said, as he stirred his small cup of tea.  “So, speaking of which, how are you with heats?  I’m sure my nephew hasn’t asked you if you need any aid or supplies.  Forgive him, he’s young.  If you need anything personal, don’t be afraid to ask me, I help Isaac often.  I’m a doctor and an Omega myself, so don’t feel obligated to be embarrassed,” he explained.

Stiles shrugged.  “Not worth worrying about.  I haven't had a heat since I was thirteen.  Been on suppressants since then, mostly," he answered.  They basically neutralized any and all heats that came through Stiles’ system.  He took more than the recommended dosage, but had gone through all the logical steps involved with that.  At least in his head, anyway.

Peter frowned immediately, crestfallen.  "You’re kidding…  May I ask why?" he asked immediately.

Stiles shrugged, letting his eyes gaze elsewhere.

 

_"Because you don't deserve to feel good.  Your mother and father are dead, is this really the time to pleasure yourself?  So selfish."_

_“Heats are to be spent with people you love.  Who do you have?  Scott?  This…  Pack?  Would you really subject yourself to them?”_

_“How sad…  You’re actually considering it.”_

_“Do you really think you have the time to deal with this?”_

 

Logically speaking, it did make sense.  After his mother died, Stiles had to help his father get through grieving.  When Melissa got sick, he had to help her around the house more and more, while Scott took her physical pain away with his Alpha drain.  

That purpose in life drove him forward, and heats just got in the way.  Suppressants took them away, so that was the only real way to go.

"They just...  Get in the way, really.  Besides, it's hard to get in the mood when everything's sort of...  Falling apart.  I've always been told it's best to just ignore them if I can anyway.  Omegas don’t need heats," Stiles answered.

Peter shook his head, in a mixture of disgust and appall wrinkling his face.  "No, that's when you want your heats the most.  Heat isn't sexually motivated, it's emotional.  The feeling of closeness with the people you love, or people who are your friends?  That seeps into your soul and takes the emotional toll away from you.  Whoever told you to stay off your heats is moronic," he spat, angrily.

Stiles thought to himself.  Who had told him that?  A doctor?  No, there’s no way that Dr. Deaton would ever recommend that.  Deaton was as spiritual as one could be, one of the strongest Magi in all of Beacon Hills.  Then who had?  

_“Don’t worry about it Stiles…  It’s not all that important.”_

 

"When's your cycle heat?" Peter asked, rather directly.

Stiles shook off his earlier question, and tried to think to himself for a moment.  He hadn't had a period or heat in so long that it all just sort of blurred together.  Though he did remember that his first heat was on his thirteenth birthday.  So that was also when he'd get his first period as he transitioned into Omegahood, right afterwards.  They should have been consistent afterwards.  

"I..  Have no idea exactly, but I think I'd probably be an early month heat.  So...  Probably in a few days?" Stiles finally answered honestly.

Peter sighed, rubbing his forehead.  "Okay then.  Stiles, go off your suppressants tonight.  No wonder you look so pale, you've been denying yourself your base Omega needs,” he answered.

"Base Omega needs?" Stiles asked.

Peter glared at him.  "Dear God...  Did your mother and father not tell you anything?  No offense to their memory, but…  This is rather worrying," he exclaimed, putting his hand on Stiles’.

Stiles tried to think back to "the talk".  Though as he did, his head started throbbing painfully.  All of it was like a fog, and he could barely picture his parents’ faces.  Besides their badges and an aging photograph, he couldn't remember much of anything about them.  As if his head had tried to block their memory, to keep him from the pain of it all.

 

_“You don’t need heats.  Ignore them.  Why pleasure yourself?  How pathetic are you?  Do you really need all that attention?  All those people?  If you go on your heats, you’ll just end up alone eventually.  Then you’ll want your heat, but be unable to find any satisfaction.  Alone and miserable.  That’s what awaits you.  If you insist on being with this…  Derek person…  At least leave yourself some room to recover when it caves in on you.”_

 

"Never mind..." Peter said, sighing.  He moved closer to Stiles, putting his arm around the boy.  "Stiles, we're Omegas.  Our bodies are designed to nurture the people around us, and bear the emotional burdens of those we love most.  Tell me, have you ever felt yourself leeching another's sadness?  Their grief?  I’m sure you have."

Stiles had.  Alphas had a similar talent with physical pain.  Omegas, on the other hand, could drain away sorrow, saddness, and bring joy.  

After his mother passed, and when Melissa first found out about her diagnosis, Stiles had taken his father and brother's grief as best he could.  He didn’t even have to touch them, or them even knowing he was doing it.  Somehow, he’d gotten very adept at that skill.  Absorbing and taking grief.

 

_“It’s all you’re good for.  Being a source of darkness.  Why change that?  Why open up old wounds when they’ve barely healed?  You have no place in the light.  Never have, never will.”_

 

“Stiles?” Peter asked.

“Yes, I have.  What of it?” Stiles answered.  His headache was growing, the world around him blurring.

Peter smiled.  "That's partially what heats are for.  They let us release all of that pent of grief and sadness we've absorbed, replacing it with passion, romance, and sexual gratification as we age.  The fact that you've gone this long without one is worrisome. Holding that much pain inside of you is toxic," Peter explained.

Release?  He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly news to Stiles.  When he took grief and pain, it never actually seemed to go anywhere in his body, and was partially why he was so good at it.  He didn't figure it needed "release", since he seemed like an endless void on the inside.

 

“ _You’re pathetic.  Do you really think a Hale is telling you the truth?  All he wants is you to get nice and flexible for his nephew.  If you feel good, it makes you complacent.  Easy for someone to hurt you again.  He will.  This man will ruin you.  This man will let Derek hale ruin and devastate you all over again.”_

 

Stiles felt his stomach knot.  “Thank you for your concern, but I…  I’d rather not have this discussion.”

“I do.  As the Hale family’s lead Omega, I cannot let you harm yourself like this.  This is a very serious health concern,” Peter said, tightening his grip on Stiles’ shoulder.

Folding his arms, Stiles sighed.  “I’m not going to be some fucktoy for your nephew.  I’ve barely accepted him courting me,” he spat.

Peter chuckled.  “Is that what you're worried about?” he said, with a brief smile.  “Stiles, Derek is the head of a pack, and Talia Hale’s son.  Any sort of sexual relationship before or during courting would be an insult to his family.  Besides the fact that Derek is a very fundamental werewolf.  He’d never take advantage of anyone, I assure you,” he answered.  Peter’s hand intertwined within Stiles’.

Stiles shut his eyes.  He felt the headache fading, the hole inside of his chest loosening.  His body felt light, and he felt his arms unfold from his chest, falling into Peter’s body.

He could barely hear himself think, his own voice drowned out by lightyears of distance.

“Shh…  Relax,” Peter said, patting Stiles’ forehand.

Black veins were lifted up on Peter’s hand, traveling up his arm and into his neck.  The black dust trailed out of Stiles and into Peter, where the older Omega’s face turned pale.

“You’re taking…  My grief?” Stiles whispered.  

Peter chuckled.  “Of course.  You believe we want to hurt you?  I’m showing you we’re not.  Besides, I’m a doctor.  I took an oath.”

Stiles felt his shoulders relax.  “You…  Don’t have to do this,” he mumbled.  He could hear a low grade scream in the back of his head.  But hell if it didn't feel amazing.

“Of course I do,” Peter said, smiling.  “I’ve done this for all of Talia’s pups, and all of your pack.  Derek, Boyd, Erica, Isaac?  They know they can come to me with anything and let me take their pain.  That’s what a family is.  We take the pain of others, and lessen the weight.  Five people can lift more than one, and together we stand strong against anything.  You, pup, are no exception.  I'll take care of you, just like I've taken care of them,” he explained.

Those words seemed to knock Stiles into a foggy haze.

++++++++++++++++++

_“You’re never alone Genim.  Mom may be gone, but I’ve got you.  You lean on my shoulders, and I’ll lean on yours.  That’s what a family is.”_

_“I know Dad…”_

_“We can’t ever give up.  Your mother would never forgive us if we did.”_

_“I won’t Dad…”_

_“That reminds me…  Scott wants to come over tonight after the funeral.”_

_“I don’t need him, Dad.”_

_“Yes you do.  Quit being stubborn and let your best friend be there for you.”_

_“I don’t want him there, Dad.”_

_“You’re a horrible liar Genim Stilinksi.  I don’t even have to be a were-creature to know that.”_

_“....  I don’t want him to see me cry.”_

_Warm hands touched his shoulders._

_“Crying isn’t a weakness, son, and neither is feeling grief.  Don’t be afraid to cry, Genim.  We all feel the same at some point.  Scott did after what he hwent through with his father.  He knows how you feel, and wants to help you through it.”_

_Tears dripped down Stiles’ face._

_“Dad…  I miss mom…”_

_Warmer hands around his neck, embracing him in a hug._

_“I do too, son…  I do too.”_

_He could hear his father’s sobs.  They echoed with his own._

++++++++++++++++++

Stiles opened his eyes.  He could hear his father’s voice, clearly, for the first time since he’d died.  Stiles barely felt the tear running down his face, but could still feel that day’s warmth.  

Like the hands like he felt around his waist.  Hands like he hand gripping his own hands.  Like the beating hearts he felt on his lap.

Stiles was warm.  Right then, right there.  

 

_“What is this?  It’s…  It’s nice.”_

 

“He’s awake,” Scott said quietly.

Focusing around the world, he could see he’d been moved to the couch.  Scott was  pacing around the couch, his heart racing in a heightened pulse.

Right above him, he was met with worried stares from Isaac and Peter.  Peter had him spread out over his and Isaac’s laps.

“For fuck’s sake…   Stiles, how much have you been holding in?  We’ve been at this for hours and I feel like you’re just a never ending pool of pain,” Isaac asked, as his hand was even darker than Peter’s, sucking up as much negative emotions as the more experienced Omega next to him.

“I don’t know pup, but I’m glad he’s back with us,” Peter answered grimly, trying to smile as Stiles glanced his way.

“Me too,” Derek asked, who had a tight hold on Stiles’ hand.

Cora was playfully nuzzling Stiles’ neck, in a half-purr.  “Derek’s cute boyfriend has all the sads,” she explained quietly.

“More than he should, that’s for sure,” Peter said, shaking his head as he withdrew his hand from Stlies’.  A black fluid dripped out of Peter’s nose, and the older man covered his nose with a town that was stained in black.  “A moment please, I’ve got to go deal with this,” he said, gently lifted himself up, letting Scott take his place, much to Derek’s irritation and chagrin.

Finally waking up fully, Stiles rubbed his eyes, trying to lift himself up.  

Though he found that difficult, given that there was a massive weight on his lap and legs.

Turning down, there was a bright golden…

Stiles’ eyes blew out and tried not to be too surprised.  Instead, he just exchanged glances between Derek and the foreign body on his lap several times.

“Why is there a Puma purring on my lap?” Stiles asked, pointing to the black and gold speckled feline.  The beast was probably bigger than stiles, with her head rested comfortably on Stiles’ lap.

Though as he took a better look, the Puma was covering up a grey and white spotted wolf, having rested his head on Stiles’ foot.

“Boyd and Erica didn’t have room with Cora, Isaac, and Peter doing their thing, so…  They shifted to share your feet and lap,” Derek explained, chuckling.

Stiles tried to glare intimidatingly.  “I can’t move,” he said, shivering as Isaac leeched out another glob.  His nose was running a thin stream of black from deep inside, just like Peter had.

“You, ** _pup_** , are not going anywhere until we deal with nearly four years of angst and get it out of your system.  Keep your ass firmly planted,” Peter ordered, having returned from the restroom with a fresh towel.  He motioned to Isaac.  “Go clean up, round nine is starting,” he answered.

While Isaac got up to wash, Stiles tried to get up with him, only to have Peter’s hand shove him back down.  “Nope.  Pup, you stay where you’re at,” he answered, taking Isaac’s place and putting his hand on Stiles’, his veins flaring back up almost instantly.

“No really, you don’t-” Stiles tried to say, interrupted quickly in the process.

Stiles felt Derek bop him on the head with minimal force involved.  “Shut up and let us love you.  Alpha’s orders, my Omega,” he answered with a goofy grin.

Glaring right back, Stiles flared his nose.  “You’re going to abuse that to no end, aren’t you?” he spat back.

“ ** _Yep_** ,” the room replied in a enthusiastic unison.

Stiles just rolled his eyes, laying his head back on Scott’s lap.  His brother had a calm smile on his face, running his hands through Stiles’ hair.  “Just rest bro.  We’re staying home from school tomorrow, don’t worry about your homework.  Let Peter do his doctoring.  Isaac says he’s really good at treating Omegas.  You’re going to be okay,” he said reassuringly.  

“Scott?” Stiles asked, watching his brother tear up.

“They said they saw it…  Isaac and Peter, they could see everything you’ve been holding in.  When Peter asked him for help, Isaac **_passed out_** , Stiles.  I…  For fucks’ sake, I’m a failure as a friend,” Scott answered.  He then immediately bumped his fist on Stiles’ forehead.  “Go to sleep.  I’ll chew your ass out in the morning, okay?  Just…  Just relax,” he begged.

There was no loud noise in the back of his head.  Just a weak whisper, barely audible.  Towards the end, it was more like a hiss than any sort of legible word.

 

_“stiles… you…  you’ll hurt..   sto...p….”_

 

Stiles took a deep breath, as Isaac sat next to Stiles, running his hands on Stiles’ forehead.  The feeling was indescribable.  It was as if gravity itself was being lifted off Stiles.

Though his neck mark was burning, searing into his skin like sharp needles.  

At least, until Cora’s hand and face soothed it with a icy cold relief.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in the update! Hopefully the extra length will make up for it? :D
> 
> Also, not sure if anyone wants it, but below is the link to the audio tracks I listen to when I write this story.  
> https://8tracks.com/rtsidestories/irreplaceable-sorrow-irreplaceable-joy
> 
> If you ever wanted a hint at where the story is going, my music is a good hint. ;)
> 
> ++++++
> 
> In an unrelated note, if I started a "side story" (a smaller fic to help me pass the time while I'm plotting this one), what kind of fic would you like to read? I pretty much ship anything in the TW fandom, so I'm open to all kinds of ideas.


	8. Chapter 8

_**In August of 2007, Stiles Hale would be repaid for every injustice that Jackson Whittemore put him through.  Plus interest.  He would never get made fun of by Jackson Whittemore for having a "goofy" mark on his neck ever again..** _

_**In August of 2007, everyone would realize that Scott Hale was Stiles Hale’s big brother, his best friend, and to NEVER fuck with his little brother and his best friend.** _

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Fourth period had been hell for Jackson Whittemore.  That’s when the texts started coming into his phone, and when he’d stupidly started looking at them.

Health class was never really all that great of a time, and he didn't really need to learn about Alpha Rutting, but the real problem was the image on his cell phone.

A picture of Stiles.   A picture of Stiles Stilinksi...  McCall...  Hale, whatever the fuck he called himself these days.  That didn't matter, what did matter is that he was half-dead, with black veins protruding over the entirety of his body.  His skin was like a pale grey, something out of a sci-fi horror flick.  A flick where he's got some horrendously incurable disease that was going to turn him into a zombie.  

Though, he knows that's not it.  The Health book he had opened to the Omega section was more than telling.  They’d just gone over it in class.

Grief Poisoning, and Stiles on his cell phone looked about ten thousand times worse than the "fatal" image on the health book's paragraph that displayed a corpse.  The corpse looked better than Stiles.  

He'd read the paragraph half a dozen times, but still couldn't come to accept what hit was saying.

 

_Greif Poisoning is the toxic reaction of Omegas who do not burn away the accumulated "grief" from their emotional leeching during their monthly heats.  While a three or four month "skip" can happen while on psycho-suppressants, toxicity will take place around month five and slowly gather over years._

_Often viewed as a way for a painless “suicide” (despite no death actually occurring), Grief Poisoning slowly numbs the body's nervous system, until all that remains of the previous individual is a lifeless puppet, devoid of all thought and emotion.  The “soul” or “mind” (depending on religious views) is overcome by the grief and ceases to exist._

_These puppets, known as Voids, are a popular commodity in the demonic realm, as they can be used as hosts for possession.  Necromancers have also been known to use Voids to accumulate grief as sources of energy, due to the Omega "leeching" process still being functional, even after nerve death has set in._

_Use of a Void is banned in seventeen countries, including the United States._

 

Jackson took slow, deep breaths, turning to look at the picture again.  The veins...  God, they were the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen in his life, like some foreign invader had crawled into Stiles' skin and was trying to make a breech birth.  They were all over the kid’s body, with just a few patches of skin spared.

The text below made his hands shake, like they had the entire hour.

 

_"I know it wasn't all your fault Jackson, but so help me God if you ever so much as tease my brother again or make him feel like shit, I'll get Alpha Derek and we will hunt you down and slaughter you.  I'd go to jail for my brother, especially after this. This is greif poisoning, or what Peter called it anyway.  Stiles was at the worst stage of this thing, and you're a big part of it."_

 

Jackson had to hold his breath, scrolling down the long list of images.  The first was of a bucket of black goo that he recognized as Omega Greif.  The stuff Omegas sucked up from other dynamics to make them happier, the stuff that should get dissolved inside their body during heat.  There was gallons of it by the couch that Stilinksi was splayed out on, with Isaac Hale practically vomiting the stuff out of his system that he'd drained from Stiles.  Another image was of a sleeping Stiles, in a grief-stricken Derek Hale’s arms, the Alpha in half shift and growling at the veins.

He scrolled down further, to another long string of text.

 

_"Stiles hasn't had a heat since he was thirteen.  All the fucking shit you put him through just added up repeatedly, and turned him into this.  He had no fucking self-worth and could have died.  That's not me being dramatic, that's Dr. Peter Hale talking.  There was so much toxic shit in his body that my mate threw up just barely draining him.  You poisoned him Jackson, and if they hadn't saved him last night, I don't know what might have happened if Peter hadn't come when he did.  My brother might be some mindless zombie right now.  Scroll down.  Look what you did, you bastard.  Look what you did and meet me in the quad."_

 

Against his better judgement, Jackson did scroll.  The picture made his gut churn, and he just about lost it over Finstock's floor.  Without an explanation, he covered his mouth, clambered out of the classroom, earning him several disturbed looks from his classmates.  He missed the sad glance on Lydia’s face.

Jackson didn't get far.  Running down the hall, the picture flashed in his head again, and he had to stop just outside the school in the main quad.  Jackson barely made it to the outside trash can when he vomited violently inside of it.  Practically anything he'd eaten that morning was gone from his system, and his stomach still wanted to purge more.

"Jackson?  What happened?  Are you-” Lydia said, storming outside and joining Jackson at the quad.  

“Get away!” Jackson barked, not wanting his mate to see him like that.  Or even see him at all.

Lydia covered her mouth, ignoring Jackson’s cry.  "Guilt.  You're covered in guilt, oh my God…  Jesus…  Jesus Christ, that’s…  What happened?!” she shouted, dropping her purse and putting her arms around him.  She tried to take the phone out of his hands, the phone that was buzzing like crazy.

Jackson shook, crushing the phone in his hands.  He couldn't see those pictures again, he could NEVER see those pictures again.  They were burned in his brain for all eternity. “I’m…  I’m… “ he stuttered, not sure how to accurately summarize his thoughts.

His wolf was screaming.  

The usually prideful, confident, aggressive wolf?  It was screaming in agony.  

Guilt, shame, dishonor.  He felt his birth pack, Whittemore, was shamed.  He wanted to die, wanted to make up for everything with his blood.  Jackson needed to bare his throat to Stiles, let the kid rip it out if he needed to.  He’d nearly killed an Omega.  An innocent.  A human.  Everything his family stood against.  Everything weres everywhere stood against.

"Jackson…  Jackson what’s wrong?  Talk to me!" Lydia said, holding him tightly in her arms, her blue eyes flashing to try and soothe him.  Just as Alpha-oriented as Jackson was, she couldn’t take his emotional pain, but tried to hold him tight enough to squeeze it out.

Shaking, Jackson could only wipe away the perspiration on his forehead.  "I...  I'm a monster...  I...  I'm...  I'm scum.”

_**“You’re worse than scum.”** _

Lydia and Jackson both jumped at the deathly violent voice.

Jackson backed up, faced with Scott Hale's burning red Alpha eyes.  He was wolfed out, in half shift.  Lydia moved between the two of them, staring at Scott fearfully.  

"Scott?  What's wrong?" Lydia asked, breathing in and out deeply when Scott edged closer to them.  She fell to her knees immediately, clutching her stomach.  “Dear Lord…  That’s…  That’s pure rage…  I think I’m going to be sick,” she said, overwhelmed by the contrast between Scott and Jackson’s emotional auras.

Scott brushed past Lydia, grabbing Jackson by the collar and lifting him up into the air, growling deep in his belly.

“I…  I’ll get rid of Derek’s invitation to the pack.  Forget it, I don’t deserve it.  I don’t deserve a pack, do whatever you want with me,” Jackson said, baring his neck.  

"Oh no...  You're going to get into Derek's pack.  I've already convinced him of that.  You’re moving in this weekend when you'll get the bite," Scott said, in a near-roar.

Jackson twitched, staring into Scott’s eyes.  They were angry, deadly, but…  In control.

“What?  Why?” Jackson asked, his neck getting sore and his lungs finding it hard to find air.

Scott tightened his grip on Jackson’s neck, bringing him within inches to his drooling fangs.  His breath was hot, downright boiling.

"Because you're going to spend the next fourteen years making up for what you did to Stiles.  Every little hurt, every little injury, every time you made fun of him for being cursed when he wasn't?  Calling him Genim the Geek?  Getting the lacrosse team to torture him?  Being the bully that made him never make a friend?  You’ll make it all better, do you hear me?  If you have any pride as a were, you know what you have to do," Scott spat, eyes still blazing with Alpha red.  

Even under another Alpha's pack, the man had outrageous power behind his words, as though he were a leader all on his own.  Especially given that Jackson was more Alpha oriented on the Beta spectrum, he shouldn't have heeded Scott's words at all.  Only Derek should have been able to force someone into the Hale pack.

Instead, he fell to his knees almost immediately after Scott released him, falling to the ground.

“Besides.  Stiles wouldn’t want me to kill you.  No matter how much I’d like to tear out your guts and feed them to you, that’s not the kind of person Stiles is, and that’s not the kind of man I am.  But I’m not letting this one slide.  My mate pulled out way too many memories of you being a shitface to Stiles.  More than anyone else, or I'd be going after them,” Scott said bitterly.  While he might not have killed Jackson, Scott was quick to force his feet on Jackson’s face, slamming it into the concrete ground.  

Jackson nodded.  "I swear," he answered.  He glanced up, his eyes shimmering blue.  “I’ll guard him with my life.  I’ll make this…  I’ll make this right.  I won’t have my pack’s name destroyed because I was an immature idiot,” he promised.

The wolf wasn’t in as much agony anymore.  No, it was changing.  Maybe even growing up a little, maturing.  His wolf wasn’t about him anymore, it was about making amends to that human he’d wronged.  

Scott’s wolf-out slowly faded, his face returning into its usual human glow.  Though his eyes stayed, just as red and bloody as they’d been moments ago.  

“Good.  Make sure the school knows not to fuck with Stiles anymore, Mr. Popular.  I’ve got to get back, Stiles should be awake by now.  He's had a really shitty night, but he's hopefully better,"Scott said, sulking away as he left Jackson in his pitiful state.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Stiles had never felt better in his entire life.  Everything was so light, so energetic, and...  Warm.

All because of Sunday night's events, combined with an injection from Peter that morning, had triggered his heat.  The overprotective figure that he was, Peter demanded that Stiles burn whatever he and Isaac had missed the night before.  It would be a short, medically induced, heat that lasted just for one day.  He’d hit his usual cycle the following month and hopefully would be back on track.  No more Grief Poisoning, no more being a Debbie Downer, and hopefully no more sickening depression.

While he was glad to finally be rid of the last of the grief, Stiles felt his fingers wiggling excessively, as well as his foot dancing up and down repeatedly by the floor.  

Omega Heats weren't the bullshit the romance novel industry made them out to be, and what someone had apparently told him they were.  There was no lubrication on the inside of asses or vagina, no whiny Omegas begging for an Alpha's knot, and no dubious consent that plagued the romance book market.

No...  Peter corrected him, giving him a very interesting pamphlet that he devoured, immediately using his cell phone for further research.  Why he'd never bothered to do that before, he'd never know.

All of the sources were consistent.  A heat was supposed to be a pack time.  A time when the Omegas could burn away all the stored grief and "burdens" of the pack at one time each month.  Granted, it also served as a period of time (one to two days after) for a near perfect contraception rate and mind blowing sex, but only if in the presence of a rutting Alpha and only after the Omega allows the Alpha to "claim" them for the duration.  Which for werewolves and most supernatural creatures, was a bite.

A bite that Derek said he’d never give until he and Stiles were fully courted, should Stiles actually accept him as his mate.

So he didn’t have to worry.  

Still, Stiles couldn't help but be nervous.  This was a very personal, very emotional, very touchy-feely experience.  Up until two nights ago, Stiles had never been any of those things.  Now he wanted to be one of those things.  

Which was just downright confusing as hell to his head.

"Stiles, you can calm down.  You're in heat, not about to die horribly," Peter said, turning a page in his magazine in the recliner opposite him.  

Huffing under his breath, Stiles groaned.  "I'm...  I...  Gah, I don't feel right.  I don't feel like me right now, and it's not the heat.  The heat is like a little buzz, but this...  This shit in my head, it's driving me insane.  I've never felt like this before, and it's just...  It's weird, okay?  What is this?  You can smell emotions!” Stiles exploded, turning to Peter for advice.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, looking up from his magazine.  

Stiles swung his feet around, sprawling out on the couch and wanting to claw the pillow to shreds if he had claws.  He didn’t know what any of this was.  Like a bright little ball in his stomach at the thought of his pack.  He could remember that fleeting feeling, a long time ago, but it was so distant that he couldn't exactly point it out.  

"A week ago, I wanted to crawl into bed and never get out of it.  I hated everything and everyone.  I wanted to be left alone and never see another living being as long as I live.  Now, I...  I'm going insane because my pack isn't here.  I want Scott here, I want Scott here yesterday, because I need to tell him things and talk and be with my brother, and...  I've never wanted that before.  Peter, I'm freaking out here, I've never wanted people before, I'm not good with people, I've talked more in this goddamn paragraph than the entirety  of my time spent with Derek, and this is not NORMAL for me, so excuse me if I'm a little nutty," Stiles exclaimed, trying to control his breathing.

Peter chuckled.  “Just Scott?” he asked.

Stiles shook his head.  “No, I want Isaac too, because I get the feeling like he's the kind of person that I could be actual friends with, and I want to apologize for being so shitty to him and his pack!  I want Boyd and Erica here so that I can ask them why they deem it appropriate to bang all hours of the night when I'm trying to sleep, but also show Boyd why Erica creams him at Call of Duty.  Cora needs to be here too, because I need to explain why I wanted to nuke her, and try to make amends.  I want Derek here, because I just now realize that someone actually is trying to love me, and it’s a good man who isn’t a total knothead,” he explained, feeling the little warm spot centralize around his chest.

Hiding behind his magazine, Peter let loose a loud chuckle that reverberated all around the house.  “Here I thought you were a quiet one!  Get all that grief out of you, and you’re very fond of talking!” he said, hopping off the recliner and moving to Stiles’ side.  He patted the Omega’s leg.  “Which is a good thing, just to be clear,” he answered, still laughing.

"This isn't funny!  My whole life has been me being gloomy pants.  Today I'm...  Fuck, I'm on a low hum of a heat buzz and...  What is this?  I’m serious, smell me and tell me what I’m feeling!  This is driving me nuts!” Stiles exploded.

Peter, crestfallen, tried to shake off the funk wrinkling on his face.  “Stiles…  Are you saying you don’t really not what emotion you’re feeling?  Right now, the emotion you’ve got?” he asked seriously.

“YES.  Tell me!  Am I nuts, or what?” Stiles yelled, flipping up to an eye-to-eye level with Peter.

Peter rubbed his chin.  “Oh wow…  Now this is just sad on a new level,” he explained, falling backwards to rest against the couch cushions.  "I hate to tell you this Stiles, because it hurts me to know that you’ve never felt this before, but what you're feeling is "happy".  I know that smell, and if this is foreign to you, then let me explain.  This is "joy", "excitement", "happy", and "contentment".  I know that must have been a fleeting emotion in your life, but surely you've felt it before," he explained, feeling his heart lurch.  “Please tell me you’ve felt this before on some level, or I think I might actually cry,” he said, holding Stiles’ hand tightly.

"This is...  Happy?  Holy fuck.  Happy is good," Stiles said, clutching his chest tightly.

Peter’s mouth actually dropped, going frozen in terror.

"You poor boy.  I’m taking you to Disneyland this summer with Cora, my nieces Sara and Clara, and I.  You’re going to wear the mouse hats and everything.  No arguing,” Peter said, patting Stiles’ hand and throwing his arms around the boy.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile.

“Can Scott come?” was all Stiles could ask.

++++++++++

 

The pack got back from their trip into town, much to Stiles’ delight.  He blamed the heat at first for that joy, but knew that wasn’t the case.  

"I've got supplies!" Erica exclaimed, holding several bags up in the air as she immediately divebombed on the couch next to Stiles..

Stiles rose an eyebrow.  "What kind of supplies?" he asked cautiously.  Because if she brought him a dildo or other Omega sex product, he was probably going to die then and there.

Instead, Erica pulled out a bundle of soft red clothes.  "Special Omega yoga pants, boxers, and t-shirt, made of special material that keeps your body nice and soft!  Isaac told me the brand he uses, and its supposed to even make you sleep better at night when you’re all heaty and stuff. Here ya go!" she said, throwing the fabric into Stiles' hands.  

He felt the fabric through his hands, melting into it.  Erica was right, it was soft.  Like he wasn't going to be wearing anything at all.

"We'll go shopping this weekend for more stuff like that.  Maybe get you something other than black to wear at school as well?  Your closet is depressing, like you should be touring with My Chemical Romance," Erica said, pouting.

Stiles waited for the voice in his head.  The voice of reason to scream about how unnecessary more than seven outfits was.  How color was just a distraction and might bring him attention.

Though…  It never came.  Instead, what he’d actually thought all the years came into light.

 

_"I...  I could use some new clothes.  My hoodie's...  A little ragged.  My jeans suck, and...  I hate black."_

 

“Yeah.  I think that’d be awesome,” Stiles answered.  Erica squealed, hugging Stiles around the neck.

“Yay!  We’ll get Lydia, my new friend Kira, and Isaac to come too!  Derek and Boyd aren’t allowed, they suck at shopping,” Erica said.

Stiles snorted.  “Yeah, Scott’s out too on that one,” he answered, recalling the time where Scott actually tried to buy a rugby polo that was orange and blue.  Not happening.

Next through the front door was Boyd, carring a cardboard box that might have held a piece of large furniture.  Though the smell was incredible, like dark and sweet sauces, and steaming vegetables.

Boyd slammed the box down on the living room's table, right in front of their feet.  "I've got 12 of everything at the local chinese joint.  Scott said it was your favorite, so eat up!" he said, pulling out containers and covering the table.  “Derek should be here any minute.  Apparently Yukimura, the Kitsune girl, accepted the pack offer, he’s gong to administer the bite.  She’ll move in on Wednesday,” he explained.  Boyd then offered Stiles a small box of chicken fried rice.  “Eat up!”

Normally, this was the point where he’d argue about unnecessary carbs, that he didn’t need something that tasted good, or that Scott really needed the food more than he did.

This time, it didn’t come.

_"I'm starving and that smells so fucking good, I want three of everything."_

Stiles snagged the box, picking up a plastic spoon from the table and cramming as much into his mouth as possible.  Bud was very quickly his best friend, lapping up the rice that didn’t make it into Stiles’ mouth.

“Hey Buddy,” Stiles said, rubbing the dog’s furry head as Scott forced his way into the house, beaming from ear to ear.  

“Dude, nobody kill me, but how’s Toy Story 1, 2, and 3 and Meet the Robinsons sound for the night?" Scott said, holding up a sack from the video rental store.

Stiles chuckled.

 

_"Scott's always been begging me to watch those stupid movies with him...  Huh, they must be good."_

 

“Sounds awesome!” Stiles said, stealing an egg roll off Boyd’s plate as his packmate sat next to him.  “Where’s Isaac?” he asked.

Peter hummed.  “He’s out training with Miss Morrell.  No rest for the weary magi,” he said, chuckling as he took the largest box of kung pow chicken out of Scott’s hands, much to the younger Alpha’s irritation.

“We can start the movies without him, he won’t be back till like 8 tonight.  Isaac wouldn’t want us waiting,” Scott said, taking the place next to Stiles the second Erica was up and getting her own plate.

Having already devoured half of his rice, Stiles shook his head.

“Actually, I’m a sweaty grossness.  I’m going to hop in the shower before subjecting you guys to my funk,” Stiles said, standing up and brushing past his packmates.

After climbing up the staircase, Scott laughed to himself.

“What?” Boyd asked him.

Slowly, Scott pushed around the food on his plate.  “I’m such a shit brother,” he said, his bright face slowly falling.

“We went over this Scott.  Grief Poisoning isn’t detectable by werewolf noses.  Only another Omega could have ever hoped to realize it, and only if they tried to suck the grief up,” Peter said.

Scott shook his head.  “How does someone not realize their brother is dying on the inside?  That their brother isn’t…  Isn’t feeling,” he said, dropping his head in shame.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “I’m more impressed by the man who’d stick by his brother, numb and cold.  Not everyone would be willing to do that.  A weaker person would have given up by this point, not wanting to deal with someone like that,” he said, nodding in Scott’s direction.

“But I-” Scott said, surprised as Boyd and Erica both slapped him across the back of the head.

“Shut up and eat,” they both said in unison.

“This is officially a no-angst house now, pup, so deal with it,” Peter said, playfully.

Scott opened his mouth to protest, eventually silencing himself as Boyd and Erica raised their hands up again, ready and willing to smack him.

++++++++++++++++++

The shower had done more for Stiles than he realized.  Stepping out of the steamy shower, Stiles had wrapped a towel around his waist, looking at himself in the mirror and falling backwards in surprised.

Stiles touched his chest, amazed by the color difference a single day had made.  Just the night before it was a pale white, but now had a rather peachy glow to it, like he was actually alive.  

His eyes looked just as different.  The silvery liquid was now more of a pale purple, almost lilac with just little slivers of silver still attached to the iris like tiny roots.  That was how his eyes were supposed to look, as Scott’s old second in the McCall pack.  He was surprised that they were still that color, given the new pack’s mark still engraved on his arm.

Even his hair had undergone a change, the water washing away the tar-like substance that half of his head had been covered in.  In the span of five warm minutes in the shower, he was a natural brunette again, with his pale wheat colored hair.  

Stiles had to let out a contented sigh at the sight.  He hadn't had that light colored hair since he was five.  Seeing his old hair back, he could really see his mother's face in his.  Her hair had been just like his, down to the same hue.

“Well…  This is a thing,” Stiles said, reaching over for his new outfit and slipping into his boxers and yoga pants.  He had just pulled on his shirt when he glanced back in the mirror.

Except…  He wasn’t alone.

Right behind him was a skeletal thin, almost bony Stiles, with deep black circles under his eyes, solid black hair, and teeth like daggers.  There was bandages covering his mouth and all around his neck.

This Stiles looked beyond pissed, his fangy teeth dripping with blood.  The figure was holding a wire in both hands, trying to noose it around his actual neck.

 

_**“Should have never crossed me Stiles…  Should have just listened to me, it would have been a lot less painful than what I have to do now.”** _

 

Stiles jumped, yelping and spinning around immediately, only to meet with the foggy steam of the shower.  He turned back to the mirror, only to see his healthier looking reflection again.  The psycho Stiles wasn’t there anymore.

Breathing in and out to calm himself, Stiles was shocked when the door flung open, Scott by his side in an instant.  He was wolfed out, baring his teeth and claws, and the pack Betas weren’t far behind, just as wolf and catted out.  Peter was still human, but holding what appeared to be an actual rapier in his hand.

“What’s wrong?  You screamed,” Scott said, trying to hold his composure.

Stiles kept staring back into that stupid mirror, trying to make that nightmarish vision stay far away from his mind.

“I uh…  I don’t think I’ve got it all out of me yet.  Yeah, that’s a big ‘ol nope, I’m a massive ball of crazy right now,” Stiles said, shaking his head quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hi there plot, there you are! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some mild graphic violence at the end of this chapter. Nothing worse than we've seen in the canon world, but still worth noting.

_In August of 2007, Stiles Stilinski would find a "puppy" with an injured heart._

 

+

 

Stiles knew coming back to school would be an interesting experience.  Between his new wheat hair, the color back in his face, clothes that weren't a tribute to Marilyn Manson, and about ten pounds of chinese food on his bones, there were a lot of changes about his body.  He felt better, and knew that he looked just as better.    

Though...  He figured strutting between Derek and Isaac Hale, the new popular kids that ruled the school, was more of the eye opening surprise.  From Zero to Hero, he felt like Hercules in the middle of a montage song.

 

_"Who's the new kid between the Hales?"_

_"I dunno...  He's kind of cute.  Nice tat."_

_"That hair is so dreamy!"_

_"Wait...  Oh my God, I think that's...  No, there's no way."_

_"What?"_

_"I think that's...  Isn't that the old Sheriff's kid?  Biwinkzsi?  The..."_

_"Genim the Geek?"_

_"That's him!  Holy fuck, did the Hales force-feed him sexy?"_

_"Isn't he an Omega?"_

_"Yes.  Holy fuck.  A very hot Omega.  Quick, give me twenty bucks!  I'm going to buy him flowers!"_

_"Fuck off, he's mine!"_

 

Stiles flushed.  His classmates weren't at all subtle about their candor.  

Then again, neither were his friends.  Especially Derek, the asshole.

"So...  Stiles, how's it feel to have the whole school wanting to explore your man cave?" Derek asked, clapping his hand on Stiles' back.

"I'm pretty sure I just watched Greenberg run off to masterbate to your face.  Holy fuck, I bet he popped a knot!" Erica said, leaning on Stiles' other side as she cackled in the direction of the Beta bathroom.

Scott sighed.  "Great.  My brother's the hot Omega.  Now I've got to defend his virtue like the good older brother I am," he said, sneering in Stiles' direction.  

"I think he can defend his own virtue.  Did you not see him wrestle Boyd down to the ground yesterday for the last crab rangoon?  Seriously, I think he could take just about any of us," Isaac offered supportively from the back.  Stiles had decided that Isaac was definitely his favorite after that.

Boyd scoffed.  "Whatever.  I could have won, I just wasn't all that hungry," he replied, holding his arms.

"He had you pinned.  You said uncle," Derek said smugly, eyeing his mate with pride.

Erica smirked.  "Speaking of being pinned, I think Ethan and Aiden are wanting to pin Stiles between them.  Holy fuck, just look at sexy McMuscle over there!" she said, pointing out the pair of very attractive Alpha twins.

"And here we go," Scott said, pretending to roll up his sleeves to "protect Stiles' virtue".  

They all laughed in unison, stopping in the Junior hallway as they all began to fiddle with their lockers.

Stiles sighed.  "Could we please stop talking about how everyone wants to bang me now?  It's sort of...  You know...  Cool and all, but...  Yeah, no, there's a moral line of Stiles that got crossed at the twincest joke.  I would never bang both of them at the same time, that's just... Yeah, no.  Maybe one THEN the other, but not at once," he said jokingly, turning to Erica with "the look".

Not that Stiles actually hated the attention.  He was flattered, obviously, but given that only his hair and skin coloring had changed, it was all superficial at best.  The kids were just interested in his new look, none of them knew who he really was.  In fact, none of them probably cared.

At least his friends knew the truth.  They cared.

"Sorry...  We just wanted to take your mind off...  You know, psycho mirror Stiles," Scott offered.

The group all cringed at the memory of the night before.  "Psycho Mirror Stiles" had ruined an otherwise lovely evening.  While they still had fun together after Stiles got dressed and out of the bathroom, it was always in the back of their mind.

Stiles nodded.  "Hey, it's okay.  I appreciate it," he answered, grabbing his economics book and throwing it into his bag.  

"I wouldn't worry about it.  Peter said he'd look into it, and Peter is very good about keeping promises," Isaac said, having collected his things and moving back to Stiles' side immediately.  

"What's there to look about?  I saw an evil me in a mirror.  Not a lot to go off of," Stiles retorted.

"A mirror that threatened you.  Sorry, but that's not normal," Derek said, leaving little space between himself and Stiles as he put his arm around his mate's shoulder.  "What happened last night was proof enough that there's more about you than meets the eye.  Something is after you, and we're not going to rest until we find out what it is," he offered kindly.

Boyd and Erica nodded together.

"He's right.  With all the creepy stuff out there in the world, like demons and monsters and Mr. Harris, there's a good chance that a lot of the shit in your life was...  Well...  Not accidental," Erica said, folding her arms.

Stiles felt his heart sink down into the pit of his stomach.  

The idea of that all of his misfortune wasn't an accident?  Peter had been the one to first suggest the theory after Scott shared Stiles' festival of "accidents" since he was five.  

 _"Who?  Why?  What did I do or what did I say that made someone want to do this to me?"_ Stiles thought to himself, clutching his textbook tightly in his hand.  The idea was appalling.  That someone literally wanted him that miserable?  While relieving to him in a way that gave him peace about none of it being his fault, it was also rage inducing.  Someone needed to be murdered.  Yesterday.  Something needed to be murdered and he was going to be the one to do it, so help him God.  Claudia, John, Melissa and Snoopy were going to be avenged.

"So it really looked like you?" Scott asked, pulling Stiles away from the locker as the first warning bell rang.  The pack still circled around Stiles, despite their differing first periods.

"Yeah, it was just so...  Creepy.  It was like me, but sleep deprived, with black everything, and...  Fangy teeth," Stiles said, shivering.

Boyd hummed to himself.  "Maybe a monster?  Like a troll or a frost giant?  Giants are good about hiding themselves.  Maybe a dopple?" he explained, offering his opinion.

"Have you ever considered that...  Demon thing?  I mean, do you know anything about it?  The one that attacked you?" Isaac asked.

Stiles shivered.  He'd done a very good job of blocking that day out of his mind.  Though the memory still haunted his worst nightmares.  

Their pack stopped outside of Stiles and Isaac's first period English.  All eyes were on Stiles, watching him nervously.

"Mom said it was a green impy looking thing.  I remember it jumping through my window while I was playing Nintendo, and it just...  God, it tried to eat me through my neck, saying it wanted the blood of an "innocent"," Stiles said, touching his arrow-like mark on his neck.  

Isaac cringed, covering his also-tender human neck.  Not everyone could have skin of steel like weres.

"Mom got to it first and fried it with a spell, I remember that god-awful smell like it was yesterday.  Burning imp flesh, yuck," Stiles said, shaking his head.  His stomach was already nauseous just thinking about it.  "I'd lost a ton of blood by then, so my dad did what little magic they taught him at police academy.  A first responder spell that collects lost blood back into the body and keeps it there.  Staves off blood loss for a whopping ten minutes before the blood vanishes in the body.  Helped me get to the hospital in time.  So, yeah, that's all I know.  I was little when it happened," he said, shaking his head.

Quietly, everyone watched Stiles sympathetically.

"We'll talk more later, okay?  You've got like twenty seconds to get to class.  Thanks everyone, I...  I appreciate it," Stiles explained, smiling.  The smile was fake, unfortunately, but he was pretty sure they could all smell right through him.

"Shit, I've got to get to math.  See you at lunch Stiles!  Bye Isaac," Scott exclaimed, as he planted a chaste kiss on Isaac's cheek, before dashing off and nearly running into a locker.

Boyd and Erica waved, jogging down the long hallway to their own respective classes.

Isaac was already making his way inside the classroom when Derek put his arm on Stiles' shoulder.  

"We'll figure all of this out.  I promise," Derek said, as his red eyes sparked with life.  As if they were representative of his collective passion.

Stiles nodded.  "Thanks," he said, surprised as Derek took his hands.  

In one swift movement, they were on Derek's chest, sparks flowing through them.  Sensation shot through Stiles' body, an exciting comfort that batted away at the shadows in the background of his mind.  

"Tonight, I'd like to take you out.  Just you and me, somewhere nice and fun.  I'd like to get to know you better.  I'd like to hear about...  Everything.  Can't promise it'll take your mind off things, but I'd like to try," Derek said, smiling eagerly.

Stiles' hesitation and surprise must have been obvious.  Though the gaping mouth probably didn't help anything.  

Derek smiled.  "Well, you did say I could court you.  Granted, that was while you were goopy black sad Stiles, but I hope the offer still stands.  I'm serious when I say I want to be a part of your life and help you through all of this.  All of us do, we want you as the pack, the family," he said, shifting uncomfortably back and forth on his shoes.  Stiles could feel Derek's heart racing in his chest.

" _Stiles, there is a very hot man in front of you.  A very hot looking man whose family and himself just spent the last two nights up with you so that you could get better.  He is the anti-knothead.  This is your soul mate, could you please try to form a sentence?"_

Eventually clearing his throat, Stiles nodded sheepishly.  He wasn't used to...  Feeling.  All of this love, happy, and friendship stuff wasn't comprehensible.  It was like his entire life had been shades of grey, black, and white.  Either anger, sadness or grief that coated every experience in his life.  A dull, numbing pain.  

Actually having some color, some life?  Especially like the Hale pack?  

All his defense mechanisms were breaking down.  The sarcasm, the rudeness, the open hostility and backlash of hate from any form of contact?  It hurt him to use those things to the people who genuinely cared about him.  He couldn't.  

They were family now.  A family like he hadn't had in a very long time.  

"Stiles?  Was that a yes?" Derek asked, the man's face beaming in anticipation.

Not letting go of Derek's hands, Stiles nodded again.  "Yeah.   Yeah, that'd be...  Good.  I uh...  I don't know much about you either.  Except you're way too nice, Mr. Hale-Poppens, and you have an aversion to wearing shirts at night," he answered, feeling his humor return.  It was a kinder, gentler humor.  A nip at playfulness instead of a bite of flesh.

The final bell rang, interrupting their rather touching moment.  

"Fuck, I'm going to be late...  See you at fourth period and lunch Stiles!" Derek said, pressing a kiss on Stiles' forehead before jetting off.

Stiles swore under his breath as he pulled open the door to English and scrambling to his seat.  He ignored all the awkward stares, more small talk about his looks and "aura", and tried to not let them see the searing red heat on his face.  

+++++++

Being the "hot Omega piece of ass" was turning out to be a bigger problem than he realized.

By second period, he'd gone to his locker only to find it a literal clown car of flowers and boxes of candy falling out into the floor.  He knew they weren't from Derek, even without confirmation.  Derek wasn't the kind of person to superficially leave him bullshit things like that.  

No, it was from the dozen or so Alphas that had been following him around since English.  The human Alphas he could care less about since they weren't really a threat, and the Alpha Fae (a good guy named Danny) wouldn't ever advance on him out of his cultural respect, but the Alpha Weres were another story.  

Stiles could feel their stares prickling on the back of his neck as he walked to Gym class.  Even without super-hearing, the wolf-whistles and small bickering that went on while Stiles changed into his gym shirt and shorts was enough to be obvious.

Because that was the thing about dynamics in the world.  It didn't matter if you were a biological guy, a biological girl, or identified anywhere in between the gender spectrums, being an Omega made you "desirable".  From the breeding ability to being a literal sponge of negative emotions, just having one in the family dynamic was akin to having a fuckable shrink.  Some took that fact a little too far.

Though this was the first time that Stiles had ever really felt that.  Probably all the grief in his system blocking out his scent, or some bullshit like that.

"Hey.  How's it going?" a guy asked.

Stiles turned around, face to face with Sir Alpha Jock King Aiden Reeves.  In nothing but his jockstrap.

"Hopefully going out to the court so Finstock can run me around for an hour, goodbye," Stiles said immediately, brushing past Aiden.  

Unfortunately, he was accosted by another Alpha.  A butt naked Alpha, the buzz-cut Sir Alpha Jock Prince Ennis Reed.  

"How come we've never smelled you around here before?  Poor thing, some Alpha would have taken good care of you if we'd just known.  Please tell me  you don't spend your heats alone, that would just break my heart," Ennis said, trying to smile sympathetically.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  "No, actually, I don't.  Haven't had one in a very long time, and I'm beginning to see one major upside to that," he replied, again moving past Ennis and to the locker room exit.

"Dude!  Don't be rude, we're just asking if you need a good fuck!" Aiden said, folding his arms angrily.  

"Seriously.  You're like...  Hot now.  Don't you want someone to drag you out of the gutter, fucking dweeb?" Ennis spat.

Laughing, Stiles shook his head.  "No thanks," he answered, waving them off.  He couldn't blame them, entirely.  Their biology was screaming at them to help the Omega, though their brains should have taken a hint that posturing like that was probably not socially acceptable.  The "boys" needed to grow up some.  A real Alpha, like Derek, would think about Stiles as a person first.

"Dude, but I...  Wait, let's just talk.  You're really-" Aiden said, making a beeline for Stiles when a roar ripped out of the corner.

A concentrated blast of sound that shook the lockers and made the Alphas cover their ears in pain.

Stiles turned to the source, expecting someone in his pack to have been in there looking after him.  Though Stiles was shocked to find it wasn't Derek or Scott roaring.

No...  It was Jackson.  The half-naked (and half-shifted) were was sitting on the bench, where he'd been lacing up his tennis shoes.  The blonde were stood up, growling under his breath.  

"Leave him alone.  He said back the fuck off, so take a goddamn hint," Jackson said in a low growl.  His teeth were flashing in a definite threat level 9.  The man was definitely showing his place in the Beta spectrum as more Alpha than Omega.  

Otherwise, Aiden and Ennis wouldn't have scoffed and headed back into the lockers to get fully dressed.

Grabbing his gym shirt, Jackson melted back into his human self.  He joined Stiles' side and nodded in the direction of the Alphas.  "Knotheads, am I right?  Probably just frustrated little bastards that can't even knot it up yet," he asked quietly in a half smile.  He ducked several objects being chucked at his head, as well as a set of low growls.

Whittemore avoided direct eye contact.  Whittemore was talking to him.  Whittemore wasn't pantsing him or shoving him into a locker.  Whittemore was being....  Nice.

Stiles brought his hands together in a quiet prayer.

"What are you doing?" Jackson asked, stuffing himself into his gym shirt.

"Trying to remember the prayers Melissa said in church.  I really need a rosary for this," Stiles answered.

"What?" Jackson said, face tilting as he tried to decipher the nonsense.

Stiles sighed, putting his hands (and the joke) to the side.  "The end is coming.  Armageddon.  Death by heavenly fire, and it's probably my fault too," he said exasperatedly, shaking his head in a half smile.

Jackson folded his arms, clearly biting his tongue.  "I'm sure that makes sense in your head, but...  Can I have a translation?" he asked politely.

"Was it not obvious?" Stiles said, scoffing.  "You're being nice to me.  Isn't that a sign of the end times?  I'm pretty sure it's in Revelations, right after Scott having a 4.0 GPA," he said.

Whittemore's face dropped.  Stiles didn't know the man could show emotions other than confidence or douchery.  It...  It hurt to see that kind of face.

"I'm sorry.  I'm sorry for all the shit I did to you Stiles.  I didn't know how much that actually affected you.  Until I saw...  All that black shit," Jackson admitted.

Stiles sighed immediately.  "Scott or...  No, it was probably Scott, right?" he said.  

Jackson nodded.  "I saw the pictures of you getting all the...  Stuff sucked out of you.  Grief.  Stuff I caused," he answered.

Pride, and the old Stiles, would have likely just rolled his eyes and walked off.  There wasn't room for forgiveness in his numb state before.  

Though, he could feel the guilt.  This was a genuine apology, and the were was drowning in a pool of negative emotion.  Every Omega instinct was screaming for him to touch Jackson and take that guilt away.  

Unfortunately, he didn't have a chance.  Jackson patted him on the shoulder and walked on out of  the locker room.

"You look...  Better.  You look good Stiles," Jackson said, in a brief sigh of relief.

Stiles jogged after him, joining his side.  "Jesus Christ, what did Scott actually show you?" he asked, trying to wonder what kind of downright horror would put Jackson in that kind of state.  Because that crap needed to be bottled and sold.

+++++++++++++++

Word must have gotten around quickly that Stiles was not to be fucked with.  Sure there was still the occasional stare or a few brave souls slipping him a number, but not to any kind of the extent before hand.

By lunch though, Stiles had his usual peace and quiet again off in the corner with the good light to read by.  Or he would have, if the pack didn't drag him to the damn middle of the cafeteria.  At what the Juniors referred to as "the popular table".  

Though it was hard to argue with Boyd and Erica, nearly carrying to the spot next to Derek and Scott, slamming him down on the seat.

"There!  Now we're all here!" Erica offered, taking her place off to the side with Boyd.

Derek nodded.  "So.  New introductions," he said, patting Stiles on the shoulder.  "We've got a few new people that are joining the Hale pack later this week.  They'll be moving in over the next few days," he explained.  

Stiles eyes caught the vivid long hair of Kira Yukimura, the move-in from a few years back.  Despite never actually talking to her, Stiles knew from gossip that she was the child of a pretty violent divorce.  She'd lived in Japan with her father for several years in middle school before moving back to America to live with her mother and go to college.  She was a kitsune, a trickster demon, and her burning golden Omega eyes spoke volumes to her emotional control.

"Kira, this is Stiles.  Stiles, this is Kira.  Last week I invited her into the pack, and I gave her the pack bite yesterday.  She's moving in tomorrow," Derek explained.

Kira extended her hand.  "So lovely to meet you.  I've always seen you around, but...  I'm ashamed to say that you scared the ever loving hell out of me," she said, giggling.

Stiles snorted.  "Gee, thanks Kira," he answered, shaking her hand.  He could feel her lightheartedness through the contact.  

"Now, I'm sure you already know Lydia, but...  Lydia, Stiles.  Stiles, Lydia," Derek said, signaling to the red head sitting alone.  

It was then that Stiles realized that...  Lydia really was sitting alone.  Her soulmate, Jackson, was nowhere to be found.

"Hello Stiles, you...  You seem like less of a serial killer now," Lydia said, with a firm handshake that Stiles likened to a vicegrip.

Shaking his hand to start the bloodflow again, Stiles glanced around.  "So uh...  Where's your better half?" he asked quietly.  

She nodded behind her, off into the corner where Stiles had spent the better part of three years in.  The corner of the cafeteria, away from the world and away from everybody and everything.  There sat Jackson, pushing food around on his plate.

The poor kid looked like a lost puppy that had been kicked all night by a lumberjack in iron-clad boots.  Or like Stiles not a few days earlier.

"Jackson is also joining the pack.  Though I'm not sure why he's all the way over there today," Derek said curiously.

"He's getting what he fucking deserves," Scott spat under his breath.

Stiles shot his brother a glare.  "What did you show him?  He's been a guard dog to me all day long, and now he's avoiding us like the plague when we're in pack settings," he said quietly, in a huffy whisper.

"I showed him the truth, that he's an asshole!  You've set it yourself a hundred thousand times that we'd be better off if he fell off a cliff.  Well I avoided the cliff but made sure he saw what he did to you," Scott countered.

"Before or after the drain?" Stiles asked.

"During," Scott said.

Stiles cringed.  He'd seen those "during" photos.  Peter had made him see them.  A reminder to never ever avoid a heat ever again.  The old man was a perfect combination of doting father and pissed off doctor that night.  

"Jesus Christ," Stiles said, standing up.  "I'll get him, just a second," he explained.

"Dude!" Scott exclaimed, shooting his friend an incredulous, twisted face.

"I'm a hypocrite, so sue me!" Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

Storming over to his once comfortable corner, Stiles had an odd sense of deja-vu from just a week or so ago.  Though he was in Derek's position, and Jackson was in his.  

"Come eat with us.  I hear you're Jackson Hale now, so in case you missed it, eating as a pack is sort of a thing," Stiles said quietly.  

Jackson shrugged.  "A pack only eats with the members that are worthy.  Those that are dysfunctional to the pack are outcast.  They're doomed to be loners," he replied dully.

"You're none of those things," Stiles said, plopping down in the seat next to Jackson.  "You're an asshole.  You made my life a living hell.  Since we were six, you've basically done everything in your power to make everyone hate me in school," he said, sighing.  "While you're an ass, at least I knew where I stood with you.  I could always trust that Jackson Whittemore was an ass.  That was a constant in my life," he explained.

Jackson picked as his food, disgust keeping food from entering his mouth.

"That's why I'm not worthy.  You're the Alpha's mate.  You're a pack Omega.  I made you hurt and could have killed you.  Until I've made up for that, I can't be a part of the pack.  Not completely," he admitted.

Stiles sighed.  "You weren't pack then.  Hell, even I wasn't pack then.  If we'd been somewhat close, none of this probably would have ever happened.  So..  Just wipe the slate clean, okay?" he offered.

The blonde douche was unresponsive, hiding his face from the world.  Jackson shook his head, as if to dismiss Stiles from his presence.

"Fine.  Then we'll do it the hard way," Stiles said.

Stiles slammed his hand on Jackson's head.  Black veins popped up, and all of Jackson's worries seemed to slowly sink into Stiles' skin.  The grief escaped Jackson, and a tinge of color returned to his eyes.

Jackson cringed immediately, slapping Stiles' hand away.  "What are you doing?!"

Rolling his eyes, Stiles folded his arms.  "Well you're being a little baby, so I figured I'd make all the bad things go away.  Then maybe you'd come eat lunch with your new pack and not make an ass out of yourself.  I'm an Omega, that's my lot in life.  Making sure you idiots don't kill each other or kill yourself with pain and grief," he explained.

"No, that's not what I mean, dipshit!  Why are you taking my pain?  I caused you enough pain, you don't need anymore!" Jackson yelled, a little of his whiny self coming back into his voice.

"So now you're telling me what to do?" Stiles spat.

"No, I'm telling you to stop being an idiot!" Jackson spat right back.

"Now you're calling me an idiot?  You ass!" Stiles countered.

Jackson growled frustratingly.  He rubbed his forehead with both hands, groaning.

Stiles could only shake his head.  If fighting couldn't' bring Whittemore back, then there probably was something deeper going on.  "Why are you so hung up on this?  Just last week you were practically sucking Derek's dick to get into the Hale pack.  Now you're doing the loner thing?  What the actual fuck?" he bellowed.

Jackson's fangs and claws were out, grumbling to himself in half-shift.

"Because I'm a werewolf.  We've got a code of ethics, you know.  Never do harm, never harm a human, and for all things holy, never do anything to break the pack.  I did all three.  If my father ever found out, I'd be stripped of my name.  I'd be stripped of whatever honor I had as a Whittemore, and be a packless loner.  I'm trying to make up for my mistakes here, and you're making this difficult," Jackson explained, shaking his head.  "I would have figured you would want revenge.  I'm trying to give it to you and not totally lose my honor in the process," he explained.

Stiles nodded.  "Yeah.  I probably would have liked that a lot, but...  That Stiles is dead," he said.

Jackson turned to face Stiles, watching Stiles' lilac eyes carefully.  

"I've got a new chance at life, so I'm starting fresh with everything and everyone.  That includes you.  I don't want to forget all that suffering.  Those experiences are irreplaceable.  They're a part of my life, but I don't want them to drive my life anymore.  So...  Yeah," Stiles explained, taking a deep breath.  "So come on.  I'll take two years off your sentence if you come back.  Lydia's pissed at me because I'm keeping her soulmate away, and she's already nearly broken my hand," he explained.

A small chuckle left Jackson's lips.

"Seriously, how are you in a relationship with her?  I thought I was going to die with that vicegrip!" Stiles continued, smiling as he massaged his still-sore hand.

Jackson rolled his eyes.  "Generally Lydia is the...  Alpha in our relationship.  And I...  I sort of like having someone in charge like that.  Especially in bed. God, when we first mated, it was like...  Hot damn she rocked my world," he admitted with a sly grin.

"Oh God..  Do not need to know about your sex life.  Yep, that's a big ol' nope," Stiles said,standing up and grabbing Jackson by the cuff of the shirt.  

He pulled the douchebag bag towards their pack's table.  Because come hell or high water, nobody else was going to suffer because of him.  

Things were going to be better.  Everything was going to be alright.  He had to believe that.  

+++++++

The city dump of Forest Lake was never very keen on regulations.  Mr. Greene, the owner, was more interested in keeping costs down, which led way to several disreputable companies being born.  

Companies interested in avoiding federal regulations, such as "Trinaesti", a bodily fluid removal service that was based in Beacon Hills.  Given the amount of grief that Omegas spilled out of their bodies, or the jizz-drenched fabrics that Alphas would toss away, it was a lucrative business to dispose of fluids that might otherwise come into unsafe contact with another person.

Which is how Trinaesti had come to the Hale house, picking up a 90 pound bag of grief, and chucked it into the back of their mini-van.  Correctly disposing that much fluid would have cost the better part of a thousand dollars.  Instead choosing for the flat $150 at Forest Lake's dump (over three hours away), the garbage driver pulled into the city dump, stopping on the outskirts of the fence.  Because the gas and time spent was still less in the long run than the thousand bucks.  

"Is this really safe to just...  You know, dump?  Isn't this void crap that has to be burned?  Don't necromancers use this shit for dark rituals?" he asked.

The garbage driver scoffed.  "Just toss it.  Grief overload from some more Omega.  What's going to happen?  Someone going to actually go through hundreds of garbage bags in a dump and looking for one with grief in it? Oh, please.  Just dump it out with the jizz sheets from the Greenberg place.  Nobody's going to know," the garbage driver said.

Nodding, the other worker reluctantly exited the minivan.  He moved to the back hatch and opened it high into the air.  The worker pulled the black sack out of the back, the heavy one with all the grief sludge.  He pulled it out, where he slung it over his back easily.  

Way too easily.  The ninety or so pounds of sludge now felt like...  Air.

"Huh?" he asked, unzipping the bag immediately after plopping it to the ground.  As he opened it, it was...  Empty.

A moan escaped from the front of the van, accompanied by disturbing slurps and muffled screaming.

The worker dropped the bag, unhinging a set of snake fangs from his mouth.  As a snake shifter, he could poison just about anyone into a paralytic coma.  

Cautiously, he worked his courage into slow steps.  He went back to the passenger side he'd been seated at, and hitched his breath.

A stark naked teenager, gently massaging its erection as he sat on his boss's lap.  His pale skin was covered in black sludge, where it was dripping over the middle row of seats, and tracked over the dashboard.  Dazzling silver eyes met his.  

"I should thank you.  If you'd taken me to the furnace, I wouldn't have had time to pull myself together before burning up into nothing.  Waking up in the middle of a dump with two beautiful bodies to snack on...  So...  So considerate of you both," he said, in a whimsical tone.  A sexual tone.  A hungry tone.

The worker spotted his boss' neck.  Or more accurately, a lack thereof.  It had been ripped open, the bone and muscle exposed.  Yet, there was no blood from the open wound, or any blood at all in the man’s ody.  Instead, it was all over the teen's lips and hands, where he was licking it up eagerly.  

"Mmmm.... So good...  Haven't had blood since that bastard father locked me up in his son's body by accident.  Stiles' grief didn't taste near as good as this...  But...  Then again, it's not the blood giving me a body, or...  Or giving me this...  This strength.  Oh God...  I never knew how good...  How good the hurt feels...," the teen said, moaning as more of the black sludge sank into his snowy white skin.  "God...  The power...  I could challenge anyone with this...  This power...  God, I'll make it _**mine**_ ,"

The worker stepped backwards, watching as the figure orgasmed from taking in the Omega Greif.  His eyes shook open in fear.  "D...  Demon...  DEMON!" he screeched, turning away and running as fast as he could.  That is, until a metal chain wrapped around his neck, slamming him into the ground.  

From the ground, he saw the teen slowly stepping towards him.  The chain that had forced him down was coming out of the demon's wrist, binding them together.  More chains came up from the ground, and the garbage worker couldn't move.  His wrists, ankles, neck, and chest were all chained into the earth.  All that awaited him was death.

He couldn't stop the teen from straddling him.  The demon licked his lips.  "Now...  Now I'll give you a choice.  Either I can make you suffer like your boss over their did, or I can make your death quick and painless," he said, laughing contently as he ran his fingers over the man's long fangs.  "If you want the latter...   You tell me where I am and how I get back to Beacon Hills.  I've got a little grief sponge I need to make _**mine**_  again...  A little human host..." he asked seductively.


	10. Chapter 10

In August of 2007, Stiles Hale would find himself not wanting to leave his room for a very long period of time.  Though this time around, it would be because he was too happy to want to leave.

 

____

 

Derek had never really dated much in his life.  Sure, there had been the horrific period of time that he and Isaac had tried to be a "thing", which ended after a sparkless kiss.  Aside from that, however, Derek never really thought about being with anyone else.  

His culture had a lot to do with it as well.  A committed relationship with weres was always a relationship for life.  So flings or dating would always feel "wrong" on the inside.  Not that it keep Derek from enjoying self pleasure and imagining what his mate was like, but as far as "serious" went, it made Derek virginal in more way then one.

Which is exactly why he and Stiles had gone through one of the most embarrassing nights of their lives.

Stiles was in the passenger seat of his Camaro, silent and watching the trees pass by as they made their way home.  The silence was deafening.

"Stiles...  I'm sorry," Derek said, pulling off the highway and back into the main street of Beacon Hills.

Turning to meet Derek's gaze, Stiles' face was confused.  "For what?" he asked.

Grumbling, Derek shook his head.  "Listen, I'm...  I'm new at all of this.  I didn't know fancy places like that needed a reservation.  I...  I fucked it up and made us eat at Arby's.  In these stuffy clothes..." he said, glancing at his and Stiles' sports coats.  his mate looked sharp.

Stiles shrugged.  "Hey, it happens.  I didn't know that either.  I mean, it's a Friday night, but I didn't expect it to be THAT busy.  Besides, at least Arby's has those fries I like," he said, smirking.

"Then I fucked up at the movies," Derek groaned, banging his head against the steering wheel when they hit a red light on the street.  

Stiles snorted.  "Okay, that one I will hold you to.  Because seriously, did you really think we could get to the movies five minutes before it started and get tickets to a release night picture?" he asked.

"Isaac usually plans our pack nights.  Him or Boyd.  I didn't know you could pre-buy tickets," Derek mumbled.

The red light turned green, and Derek started driving off again.  His face was red, a mixture of embarrassment and anger at himself.  His mate had wanted a romantic dinner and a movie.  He didn't get either.  Derek wanted to jump in a pool of tar.

Though the laughter that came out of Stiles' mouth was surprisingly.  "Hey, bowling was just as fun.  We creamed those poor saps they stuck us with!  My big bad alpha beat the shit out of their big bad alpha!" he said brightly.

Derek felt his mouth curve into a smile at that, his pride getting the better of him.

"So yeah, it wasn't the night I expected, but I mean...  It was fun!  Better than the Friday nights I've had before.  Usually I'm stuck in my room reading or sleeping.  Definitely a 90% improvement on my fun time management," Stiles said, chuckling.

_"Stiles is happy.  Good job."_

His wolf was far more eloquent these days.  Definitely more in control that the monster that wanted to jump Stiles' bones just a few weeks prior, but still had a way of making Derek do silly things.

Like put his hand on Stiles' lap, and holding his mate's hand.  He'd barely realized he'd done it, until Stiles squeezed right back.  

They both sat in silence for the rest of their drive home.  Derek smiling proudly and Stiles' heart thumping loudly.

Derek wished they'd lived farther away.  He wanted that silent joy to last as long as possible.  Unfortunately, that wasn't the case, and Derek finally pulled back into the Hale House.  

Scott's motorcycle was gone, he and Isaac obviously off doing their own thing.  Peter was at the hospital, working on Melissa's treatment and hopefully getting her stable enough for visitors.  Boyd and Erica?  Well, he could hear their blissful roars out in the woods, the two obviously having shifted and gone out for a run.  Kira was spending the weekend with her mother and grandmother.  Lydia and Jackson were moving in the following day.

Sweet privacy.  

Switching off his vehicle, Derek got out and walked side-by-side with Stiles up to the front door.  He fumbled with his keys, watching as Stiles leaned up against the railing on their front porch.  His mate looked amazing in the moonlight, peaceful and serene.  A relaxed body, free of worry.  A gentle smile, like something out of a fairytale ending.

Derek wanted that smile to last forever.

"Am I terrible?" Stiles asked.

"Excuse me?" Derek replied, unsure of where the question came from.  He dropped his keys again, growling at how awkward he was around Stiles.

Stiles shook his head.  "I was just thinking about something.  You know...  If all the rotten shit in my life hadn't happened, I wouldn't have met you and your pack.  If mom, Melissa, hadn't gotten sick and needed the Hales to take over her territory, I wouldn't be here right now.  I...  I'd still be where I was.  I'm happy now, and I...  I guess I have to thank all the misery for that," he said, laughing.  

Derek took a deep breath, walking across the hardwood and leaning on the railing beside his mate.  "Maybe it's karma.  The universe balancing out all the bullshit you went through.  So you should probably go buy a lottery ticket or something.  I think you're due a small fortune," he offered optimistically.

"Heh.  I'm due a lot more than that," Stiles said, turning around and grabbing Derek's hand.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the night.  Come on, let's go inside and...  Do happy karma things," he answered.

Not budgeting, Derek gently pulled Stiles into him.  

"That's a great idea, and I can't wait to do that, but...  This is the part of the date where I'm supposed to kiss you," Derek said, putting his hands on Stiles' shoulders.  His mate's heart was racing, excited.  "And there is no parents waiting by the front door to flip the light switch on and off," he added playfully.

_"Derek, I think you should kiss Stiles.  I'd like that very much, and I think he would like that very much as well."_

Derek mentally rolled his eyes at his wolf.  "I'm working on it," he thought right back

"Oh, uh..." Stiles said, clearing his throat nervously.  "Well, I uh...  Wow, you are a very direct person aren't you?" he retorted.

Chuckling, Derek put his hands around Stiles' waist and hoisted him closer until their chests were pressed together.  The smell was downright intoxicating, and Derek could feel his nether regions rising to the occasion.

"Oh wow.  You are like...  Yeah, that's a penis, isn't it?" Stiles laughed.

Derek smirked.  "Hard for you," he said, pressing his lips against Stiles'.  

They both closed their eyes, pressing into each other.  Opening his mouth up, Stiles was met with Derek's tongue.  

Derek wasn't sure when they unlocked their mouths, but the way Stiles held him around his waist and was attacking his mouth made him not really care.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Derek and Stiles laid out on each other on the couch, watching a TV after flipping on the USA maraton of Law and Order.  He'd never realized it, but Stiles was actually very interested in law.  The man practically glowed as he explained things to Derek, and swooned over Mariska Hargitay and Chris Maloney's chemistry together.  

Though Stiles finally yawned by 1 AM, after Scott and Isaac made their way back in the house.  Derek pretended not to notice the bright red hickeys covering Scott's neck, or the way Isaac was missing his left sock and had his shirt on backwards.  

"I haven't seen this show in years, I want to watch more, but I'm so tired I think I could actually die," Stiles grumbled, stretching out into the air as he sat upright.

Derek smiled. "We can buy the box sets if you want, I've got a nice savings account.  Maybe a TV and DVD player for your room?" he asked.

"Seriously?" Stiles retorted.

Nodding, Derek sat up as well, letting his legs brush up against Stiles'.  Not touching his mate, for whatever reason, didn't feel right.  Which was odd, because even mated couples shouldn't be touchy-feely 24/7.

"Talia gave you and Scott plenty of money to furnish your rooms.  You haven't used any of yours, so I think you've still got the full $1500.  It's pack fund, all of us got it for the move," Derek said.

"Fif...  Fifteen HUNDRED?" Stiles retorted.

"Have you not realized we're loaded yet?  Or was the $400 meal with Laura not a clue?" Derek replied.

"Jeez," Stiles said, shaking his head.  "Then yes, I think I can afford a TV and a DVD player," he said.  Standing up, Stiles took a deep breath.  "So uh...  Bed time," he explained.

Standing up, Derek nodded, pressing the hundredth kiss that night into the back of Stiles' neck.  "Bed time," he replied back.  Not that he really wanted the night to end, but...  His mate was tired.

"I um...  I yeah..." Stiles said, laughing nervously.  There was a nervous uptick in Stiles' heart.

"What?" Derek asked, pressing another kiss into Stiles' neck.

Clearing his throat, Stiles tried to shake off his nervousness.  "It's just that...  You know, Scott and Isaac have started sharing the same room lately.  I mean, they're not having sex because of the whole anti-sex thing with courting, but...  They say it helps them sleep at night being so close, and Scott wakes up practically with the light of God on his face, so I-" he said, slapping himself in the face to compose himself.  "Ranting, sorry.  This is all really weird for me, but I'm going to just say it.  Derek, would you move into my bedroom with me?" he asked.

Suddenly, bedtime sounded like the best idea ever.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Derek grabbed a few of this things from his second floor bedroom.  A pillow, some clothes, his toiletries, and his blanket he'd slept on since he was a child.  

He'd also stripped down to nothing but his scarlet briefs, and walked into Stiles' bedroom.  Derek laid his things down on their dresser, bending down to stuff his things in an empty drawer.

"So Stiles...  Want to go shopping tomorrow?  It'd get us out of helping Lydia and Jackson move in, and from what I hear, Jackson has more crap than a hoarder," Derek asked.

When there wasn't a response, Derek turned around.  Stiles was still fully clothed in his usual sleeping shirt and pants.  Staring.  Derek could sense the nervous energy.  The arousal.  

"Uh...  Yeah, if you could not bend down in nothing but your briefs this close to bed, that'd be great.  Because I have an awkward boner right now and we're about to share a bed together," Stiles said, laughing.  

Derek rolled his eyes.  "We're both guys.  Awkward boners are a way of life," he said, making his way over and jumping on the left side of the bed.  He made himself comfortable, waiting for Stiles to join him.  

More nervous energy waved off Stiles.  Aroused nervous energy.  As if he had no idea what to do.  

Which, granted, neither did Derek, but...

"I...  I sleep in my underwear too.  Is that a problem?" Stiles asked.

Derek signaled to his rather brazen 90% nudity.  "I don't think so.  Is me sleeping like this a problem?" he asked.

Stiles shook his head immediately.  "No, yeah, no, not a problem," he said, laughing as he slowly chucked off his nightshirt.  The pants were a tad more difficult, Stiles' fingers seemingly stuck at the waistband.  He finally pulled them down, with one last deep breath.  All that was left were his loose boxer shorts.

A lesser man would jump those bones in a heartbeat.  Derek's wolf was howling, but he shoved those thoughts away as Stiles climbed into bed with him after flipping off the light switch.

As if they'd been together for years, Stiles seemed to settle perfectly into Derek's body.  Stiles was the little spoon, being wrapped up in Derek's arms.

The warmth in Derek's chest felt as though the hole he often felt in his heart was finally filled.  With that, unfortunately, came a weird rhythmic beating of his heart.  

"We really are mates, aren't we?" Stiles asked.

"You doubted it?" Derek replied.

Stiles turned back around, laying face to face beside Derek in the darkness.  "I keep waiting for all of this to be a dream.  I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and you all not being real," he answered.

"I'm real," Derek said, pressing his and Stiles' lips together for a chase kiss.  "I'm real, I'm not leaving, and you are...  You are the person I am going to love for the rest of my life," he said warmly.

Leaning up, Stiles planted a firm kiss on Derek's lips.  A little more aggressive than Derek's had been.  "You liked me even when I was at my worst.  You liked bitchy sick goopy black death Stiles.  You like me now that I'm capable of feeling emotions again, and I...  I know you mean that," he said, laughing to himself in disbelief.  He cupped his chest with his hand.  "I keep...  I keep experiencing all of these feelings I've never had before.  Happy.  Joy.  Surprise.  Sexual arousal.  Horny.  With you though, I've got another one.  It's...  I think it's love," he said, smiling as he tucked his head into Derek's chest.

Derek smelled Stiles, taking a deep breath of his exposed skin.  Behind the wheat scent that comprised Stiles' body, there was a new sweet scent.  Love.  

"You are," Derek answered for him.

Though behind the sweet scent was a more musky one.  

Derek gently began rubbing his knee against Stiles' groin.  "You're also very turned on by all of this.  I'm very appreciative of that fact," he added snarkily.

Stiles rolled his eyes, rubbing his own knee against Derek's very prominent erection.

"You are crazy attractive to me, Mr. Hunkwolf.  Though there's more than just your sex appeal.  You and your pack have basically changed my life, and I just don't know how to deal with this.  It's like being around you guys sets me off in all the right ways," Stiles said.  He also narrowed his eyes slyly.  "You're also hard for me like you were earlier?  So what about me turns you on Mr. Big Bad?" he asked.

Derek tucked Stiles closer, their chests pressed up against one and other.  They didn't need their knees anymore, rubbing against each other.  "At first, I fell in love with your eyes.  There was just an immediate, shocking attraction.  I wanted you because you looked amazing, felt amazing, and...  God those eyes.  Like mercury...  The most...  Most gorgeous thing I've ever seen," he said, humming warmly.

"Why are you talking to me like I'm a Blue Eyes White Dragon?" Stiles countered snarkily.

"Shush, I'm being romantic," Derek replied playfully, pecking a kiss on Stiles' nose.    "But...  Then I got to know you.  You weren't like anyone I'd ever met before.  You were unique, snarky, and had a rapier wit that could cut down just about everyone.  Even at your worst, I could tell you were...  You were someone special," he explained.

Stiles smiled, leaning into Derek's hand that was cupping his face.

"Now I get to see the real you.  The you that was trapped under all that mess.  You're a warm person, Stiles.  You love people so much and care so hard about others that you're probably the single most selfless Omega I've ever met.  Because even when you had every reason to be selfish, you were there for your father and brother.  Taking their pain, and making sure they didn't suffer like you did.  Then forgiving Jackson for all the shit he did, because you didn't want him to be an outcast like you were.  Not many people would do that.  I think...  I think that's what I love most about you.  Your capacity to empathize with others, and your desire to never see anyone hurt," Derek said, wrapping his other hand around Stiles' waist.  With a mischievous smile, Derek pulled Stiles on top of his chest, and let his mate stay on top of him.  He ran his fingertips up and down Stiles' spine.

Flushed (and still very aroused), Stiles pressed a kiss on Derek's chest, right next to his heart.  

"At first I thought you were probably just a knothead alpha with a geek fetish.  You had the Alpha confidence and posturing, which I found attractive, but annoying.  After I moved in with you guys, I realized that...  You weren't.  Derek, you're funny, energetic, and like a hybrid of a bunny's energy and a puppy's playfulness.  You've got this "aura" about you that makes me want to be around you.  Like you're a source of fun, excitement, laughter, and...  I think I see why everyone follows you so closely.  I know your secret," Stiles said, raising his head up to meet Derek's eyes.  

"Oh?" Derek replied, running his hand through Stiles' hair.

"You're not an Alpha at heart.  Not really.  You're like a Beta at heart, having the best of Alpha and Omega worlds.  Strength, kindness, and respect. At least, that's I how think you are," Stiles said.

Derek smirked.  He'd been busted.

"It's like...  You value the freedom and feelings of others too much to really be a traditional Alpha.  Like George Washington after the revolution.  He cared so much about the independence of the colonies that he turned down the crown they were going to offer him.  That's sort of how I see you," Stiles explained.

Derek took a deep breath.

"As an Alpha...  I want my back to be filled with laughter.  Not orders or tradition or...  Pack politics and territory disputes.  I want Isaac and Scott's relationship to be just as celebrated as ours, even if they aren't the Alpha Couple.  I want people like Kira and Jackson to feel like they can speak their minds.  I want Lydia not to feel like an outsider just because she's not a were.  I want...  I want to be a different kind of Alpha.  I want our pack to be something people talk about and want to be a part of.  My mother was like that, but still held on too much to the old world than I liked," Derek explained.

Taken aback, Stiles could only blink in surprise.

"Not many Alphas feel that way.  Even Melissa was very strict about respect and keeping to the old ways.  My mom was our Alpha before she died, and I remember her always trying to keep me and my dad "in line".  Not in a mean way, but definitely postured a bit from time to time.  What makes you want to be like that?" Stiles explained.

Derek glanced away.

"It's a long story.  A day I'd honestly rather forget.  But it changed me as a person, as an Alpha, and as a man.  About five years ago," Derek replied.

Derek seemed distant, his gaze far away and lost in a past memory.

"Not tonight...  Can we...  Can you trust me to talk about it some other time?  I don't want to ruin tonight with a depressing story," Derek added.

Stiles nodded, but obviously had a pained expression.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to axe the mood with a cleaver," Derek said, chuckling as he pressed a kiss into Stiles' head.  

Stiles breathed in deeply, settling into his mate's warmth.  "It's okay," he answered.  He put his hands around Derek's neck, resting on his mate's chest and using it as a pillow.

"So...  DC or Marvel?" Stiles asked.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Scott groaned as he looked himself over in the mirror.  There was no hope of hiding Isaac's marking fetish.  The man was worse than a vacuum cleaner.  From his navel all the way up to his neck, Scott was marked.  Really, their relationship was reversed.  Isaac was the more aggressive one, as the Omega, and Scott ended up being more laid back as the Alpha.

Not that it mattered.  Scott touched each of the lovemarks, fire shooting through his veins as he remembered their trip out to lake.  

"Babe?"

Jumping up, Scott turned back to meet Isaac.  His mate was in his oversized lacrosse jersey, without any pants on.  

"Hey!  So like...  I hope you realize that everyone is going to know you're topping a wolf after I shower out of lacrosse practice," Scott said, planting a kiss as Isaac leaned into him.

"I'm sorry, I can be more gentle in the future if you want me to," Isaac answered.

Scott snorted.  "Fuck that, I like 'em," he said, nuzzling his nose into Isaac's neck.

"I come bearing orders from our fearless Alpha leader and the soon to be Alpha mate.  They moved in together last night, just an fyi," Isaac answered.

"Oh?" Scott asked, smiling at the idea of Stiles finally finding his soulmate.  His brother deserved all the happiness in the world.

Isaac laughed.  "He says that if anyone disturbs him and Stiles before 11 AM, that there will be hell to pay.  Derek also says that he and Stiles are going shopping today, and that we're all invited to come.  Stiles is getting some stuff for his and Derek's room, and I think they're wanting Jackson and Lydia to come too," he explained.

Scott hummed happily as Isaac wrapped his hands around Scott's waist.  

"So...  How about we go back to our bed and wait until 11 AM to get out too?" Isaac asked.

"You gonna tempt me to break courting again?" Scott asked.

"Always," Isaac responded.

Scott chuckled.  "Good thing I have amazing control then," he said smugly.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

_**In August 2007, Stiles would attend a small party in his own backyard for their newly formed pack.  It would make up for every failed party he'd ever had in his life.** _

__

+++++++

 

Saturday had been a blur of moving everyone in and getting the house situated with nine kilos of crap.  Despite the early morning bonding festival extravaganza, Stiles obviously had to help everyone out, with he and Isaac acting as the intermediaries when the stress of moving became a little too...  "Hot".

Picking to help Boyd and Erica move Kira in, Stiles was surprised how bubbly the Kitsune Omega was, while simultaneously the shyest person on the planet.  Still, she apparently had all kinds of interesting stories to share, all of which Stiles definitely wanted to hear about later.  

By the time everyone was all moved in, they barely had time for a pizza before everyone was back in bed.  There was no "get to know you" type stuff, especially with Peter working all day with Melissa at the hospital.  Cora and Laura were still in town, seeing the sights and bonding over sisterly things while dealing with some of the last minute pack negotiations on Talia's behalf.

The newly expanded pack didn't feel as "homey" that Saturday to Stiles.  Though that would all change quickly.

The very next day, Stiles and the pack were barely dressed and out of the shower before Derek had them out of the house and into the deep of the forest surrounding their home.  A clearing that the Alpha (or more likely, one of the Alpha's betas or a well-paid construction crew) had renovated into a park area, complete with picnic benches, a barbecue area, and a pit for playing volleyball, all right next to a nearby lake and shoddily constructed pier for swimming.

Laura, Peter, and Cora were already there, with the youngest hanging up decorations.  The others were trying to start the grill, with Peter using enough lighter fluid to prompt the second Pompeii.

Many of their were already falling into places, some helping Cora, while others immediately heading over to the volleyball pit.  

Stiles had to gulp at the sight.  Parties and him?  Well, they tended to end in bodily harm and/or horrific situations for him and his loved ones.

Though he had to admit...  The entire thing started off well enough.

With the warm air still persistent, most of the Alphas and Beta-Alphas had chucked their shirts off and were immediately engrossed in a heated volleyball match.

Isaac and Stiles watched from the sidelines, neither all that excited to get sweaty or hot before eating lunch.  Kira was also beside them, sitting cross legged as they all watched the ball go back and forth over the net with mach force.  Werewolves playing volleyball was...  Exciting.

"Oh wow.  Is that a legal serve for Jackson to make?" Kira asked.

"You really want to try and convince him otherwise?" Isaac replied, as a outlandish roar left Jackson's throat at an "out" call from Laura on his last hit.

"Good point," Kira replied, laughing nervously.

While everyone setup for the next play, Cora ran towards them.  "I wanna play!" Cora announced, jogging towards the sand pit.

Isaac grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, laughing quietly.  "Cora, you might want to hold off a bit," he said.

Stiles rose an eyebrow.  "Why can't she play?" He asked.

"Just watch," Isaac replied, as Cora made herself comfortable between Stiles and Isaac.

They all turned to the scene at hand, with Derek brushing off the sand from his latest face plant.  

Derek...  Derek was the only one smiling.

All the others looked as though they were in a battle royale match to the death.  As if that next coming play had the entire world at stake.

"Serve the ball already!  Asshole!" Jackson shrieked.  The blonde beta was tapping his food impatiently with Derek and Lydia not far behind him.

With ball in hand, Boyd chuckled.  "Sure you want this?" He said, slapping the ball with a dark glare.  "I'll serve it right down your weak ass throat," he boasted.

Lydia's eyes narrowed.  "Serve.  The damn...  Ball," she said, her voice layered with the demonic powers of a thousand hells.

The opposing team of Scott, Boyd, and Erica all backed away for a few moments.  Even Jackson and Derek backed away.

Doing as he was told, Boyd threw the ball up in the air, smacking it with a force that would have torn through trees if given the chance.

Stiles felt his jaw drop as Derek volleyed it up into the air, where it flew over in Jackson's direction.

Jackson spiked the ball over the net, where it slammed straight into Scott's head, knocking him over and into the ground.

The volleyball rolled over into Stiles' hands, where a blank fear covered his face.  "I guess you were right," he said, where the ball was ripped out of his hands by Scott.  He and Boyd were already setting up for another round, growling under their breath.

Stiles quietly made an exit with Isaac and Cora while Jackson felt Boyd's spiked wrath.  Derek saved him from a small head injury, and frankly they were all (save for Derek) just trying to clobber each other as hard as they could.  Kira stayed where she was, taking pictures and blogging away.

Cora giggled at the sight of the over competitive weres, still watching as she took a seat at one of the picnic benches.

"Are weres always like that at sports?  I've never seen Scott that...  Aggressive," Stiles asked, surprised at how hard his brother was actually trying to win the game.

The two of them stopped at the cooler, each grabbing a can and popping it open.

Isaac laughed.  "They are when their mates are this close and it's their time of the month.  They're rutting," he explained.

Surprisingly, Stiles immediately turned back to the volleyball match.  Jackson, Derek, and Lydia were practically frothing at the mouth to beat the combination of Boyd, Scott, and Cora.  Scott was downright red in the face, growling in between matches.  

It was also a little obvious now why all the guys were without shirts, and why Lydia was just in her bikini top.  Not to mention why they all smelled a little on the musky side.  Or why Lydia and Jackson looked at each other with ridiculous amounts of sexual tension.  Even the Beta Alphas were affected.

"Ah.  They're posturing," Stiles answered.  

"Hot posturing.  God damn Scott is...  Damn," Isaac said, whistling loudly.

Stiles rolled his eyes at the idea of Scott being man-bait, though not able to really take his own eyes away from Derek.  Who cares if he was a hypocrite?  The man's chest, as he learned last night, was a thing to be cherished.  

"Never been around a rutting Alpha.  Scott sort of...  Just did his own thing in private, and both my moms had outgrown it by then," Stiles said, unable to take his eyes away.  The whole thing was weird to see with his eyes.

Rutting was a little different than heats.  Similar to Omega heats that served the purpose of burning away grief, rutting burned off the accumulated physical pain that Alphas absorbed.  In short, it was a brief two day period of sexual neediness (especially brought on by the presence of a mate) and a need to be physically active and overly competitive to show potential mates their worthiness.  The endorphins from both the sexual release (either by one's self pleasure or with one's mate) and physical activities balanced out any pain they'd taken since the month prior.

It also made Alphas hot as fuck, with their muscles bulging and their bodies straining to try and attract their mate to sexually satisfy them.

It was also why Isaac immediately ditched Stiles and Cora when Scott left the match, the two likely going off to make out somewhere private.

Though as Derek and the rest stepped away from the tense match, Stiles noticed he seemed...  Less rutty than the rest.  Definitely hot, without a doubt just as muscle throbby as the rest, but...  More in control.

"Sorry about that Cora...  Everyone's a little more...  Energetic today," Derek chuckled as he bent down to her level.  He smiled, patting her on the shoulder.  "Want to play with Stiles and I after lunch?" He asked.

Cora nodded immediately.  "Yeah!" she announced excitedly.  

Derek then turned to Stiles and joined him by the cooler, grabbing himself a soda and popping it open.  "Nice day huh?  Glad we go to have this before it got too cold out," he said pleasantly enough.

With Derek in such close proximity, Stiles felt his nose burn with the smell of musk.  Not an altogether bad smell, just...  Different.  

"Jeeze, you reek of pheromones," Stiles said, a little more lighthearted than he'd intended.

Derek sighed.  "Sorry...  Get a bunch of Alphas together and we generally get on the same cycle.  Then we get physical, and well...  We all want to win," he said, rubbing the back of his head.

Shrugging, Stiles and Derek moved over to one of the tables, sitting next to one and other.  "That's just life.  Though...  You seemed to be a little less...  Rutty than the rest of them," he observed.

"Yeah, and that's weird too.  Normally my ruts are...  More intense than that, Boyd can attest to that.  One time I think I was about fourteen...  I started lifting weights at 5 in the morning and didn't stop until 9 at night.  Pretty sure I made Boyd spot me the whole time, and take pictures for my uh..  Facebook," he grumbled embarrassingly.  His face flushed red.  "I made him delete them all when I was done, but during it, I was so sure that I was going to get one of my classmates to uh....  You know...  Be my mate.  That was the instinct talking, thank God it shut up that night," he said.

Stiles snorted.  "Aww, you wanted everyone to see you be all big and strong you were?" He asked, playfully poking at one of Derek's biceps.

"I think we all do stupid shit at that age..." Derek said, shaking his head.  "Guess I'm over that part of ruts now.  Thank God," he said, in avid relief.  

“You are?  Why?” Stiles asked.

Derek turned to meet Stiles’s gaze, and threw his arm around his mate.  “Because I’ve met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I know he feels the same way.  Competing for superiority seems silly, really,” he said, with that glowing white smile.

Stiles had to choke down the urge to pounce on the asshole and kiss him three inches into the dirt below them.

“Kiss!  Kiss!  Kiss!” Laura chanted behind them, as she started throwing patties on the open fire grill.

Derek groaned, rubbing his eyebrows.  “Laura…” he huffed.

Throwing the spatula in Peter’s hands, Laura ran over and threw her arms around Derek and Stiles’ necks.  “I’m sorry, I’m just so excited for my baby brother!  See Derek, I told you!  I told you way back in ‘02, you’d find your real mate some-”

Derek threw his hand over Laura’s mouth, grumbling something under his breath that Stiles couldn’t really hear.  What he did realize was that it was the first time he’d ever seen Derek…  Scowl.

 

+++++++++++

 

After a few tense moments with Laura, Stiles was glad to see Derek back to his usually colorful self.  

Back from what must have been a record-breaking (and likely illegal in three states) makeout session, Isaac and Scott were Laura’s latest victims, both getting drilled on every fact of their life and relationship.

Derek had taken over the cooking duties with Peter, the two discussing some sports score the night before.  

Jackson and Lydia were taken up with Cora, the three of them playing a much more calmer game of volleyball.  Lydia and Cora were crushing Jackson, additionally embarrassing given that the male was trying everything in his power to win.

Which left Stiles and Kira at the picnic table, sharing life stories.  At least, Kira was sharing.

“...so mom just decided it was best we move back home to the States.  Dad was so busy with work, it took him a week to realize we were gone.  By that time, everyone was happier, and frankly speaking…  They had a better marriage half a globe away!” Kira said, laughing as she grabbed Stiles’ hand without his permission.

“Uh…  What are you doing?” Stiles asked, surprised at her forwardness.

Kira seemed deep in thought.  “Kitsune stuff.  I’m going to read your threads of fate and see what your future has to hold,” she said, her eyes glowing a dim gold.  “Sorry I’ve held back as long as I can, your fate has been driving me nuts ever since you got all that goop out of you.  It’s like…  A mountain of crazy,” she explained.

“Wait…  Future telling?  You can do that?!” Stiles asked, suddenly wanting to pull his hand away while simultaneously keeping it firmly in place.

Kira giggled, tracing her fingertips across Stiles' palm.  "Well, it's not as impressive as all of that.  My fortune telling is more or less just the most potential possibilities that comes based on your aura and what fate has in store for you.  It doesn't guarantee anything, but...  Well, I've got a fairly good track record.  I predicted Derek asking me into the pack about four weeks ago, before I even knew who Derek was," she said gleefully.

"Wow, that's cool," Stiles said, chuckling as her nails tickled his hand.  

Stiles watched her work quickly.  He could see small red threads come up from his palm, and her delicate fingertips run them through her hands.  Kira massaged them in awe, as though they were made of solid gold.

Though he wasn’t as pleased when her face dropped by ten miles and into the dead sea.

"Goodness...  I see...  A rather painful path.  Darkness drowning and enveloping every part of your being.  This strand...  It ends rather...  Rather soon as well.  Death and despair await you and all that love you," Kira said, singling out one of the many red threads.  

Stiles grimaced.  On a scale of 1 to 10, that news was a solid -4 on what he wanted to hear.  He felt his chest tighten painfully.

Kira shook her head immediately.  "Relax, everyone has a version of that strand, just not as potent as yours.  Though I see an equally viable path.  The same darkness clouding overhead, pierced by...  No..  Is that...  Fangs?  Wait, that can't be right...  The fangs aren't piercing the darkness, they're…  Who’s that woman?  Oh jeez, that’s a lot of blood.  Good God...  Is that...  Ah!" she screamed, as a small force erupted from Stiles' palm and throwing her backwards.  She landed on a tree, Kira's hair frizzed and steaming with smoke.

All eyes were on them, and Stiles stumbled up to his feet with Derek not far behind him.  

Kira was giggling, smoothing her hair out.  “Oh wow.  That was…  Awesome!” she exclaimed, beaming a smile into Stiles’ face.  

"Do I even want to ask?" Derek said, helping Kira back up to her feet.  

Stiles’s gaping mouth must have said a lot, because Kira shook her head.  

“Don’t worry!  I’m okay, that just sometimes happens when I see a future that’s too much for me to handle,” Kira explained.

Stiles’ eyes glowered.  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked.  

In a slow motion, Kira shrugged.  “Both.  Either.  Neither.  I don’t know, I couldn’t see it,” she said, laughing nervously as both Stiles and Derek stared her down.

++++++++

Lunch had been…  As nice as it could have been.  Stiles tried to ignore the knot in his stomach and shove down some of the best seasoned hamburgers he’d ever eaten in his life.  Laura was a saint in the kitchen, but he couldn’t truly enjoy the meal.

He wanted to dismiss Kira’s prediction as an old wives’ tale.  Unfortunately, he knew how close the Kitsune were to other realms.  With all the supernatural things that existed in their world, and knowing his luck?  Kira’s telling was probably true.  

Which was why he’d walked away from the late night campfire and fighting over marshmallows to dangle his legs over the pier.  He could see his reflection in the clear water, the moon dangling overhead and illuminating the world around him.

He saw his face, his hair, his body.  The “new” him.  He liked the new him.  He liked not hating everything in the world.  

“Please don’t go…” Stiles begged to himself, to fate, to God, to whoever would listen.  He wanted this Stiles to stay.  Forever.

“Stiles?” Derek asked.

Glancing behind him, Stiles could see Derek jogging down the creaking pier to join him.  

Derek thumped down on the edge of the pier, dangling his legs right next to his mate.  “Hey, we’re kind of talking about a few pack things.  Can you join us?”

Stiles nodded.  “Sure..  What’s the talk about?” he asked.

“The bite,” Derek said, scooting closer so his shoulder and Stiles’ could touch.  “You know, if you, Kira, or Lydia were ever in a life threatening situation, if you’d want the bite or not.  Or if you want the bite at all.  You know, legal stuff that Laura wants tidied up on the pack’s legal documents,” he explained.

Stiles sighed.  “Yeah, I’d take the bite if I was dying.  I already told Scott that before.  Though I’m not a fan of the idea, being a were sounds like a big pain with all that control,” he said.  Though his face seemed somewhere else.

Derek’s face piqued at that.  “You okay?  You look really down, is this about Kira’s prediction?” he asked.

Stiles nodded.  “I’m not all that surprised that death and destruction are down the pipeline, or some unexplainable unpredictable monstrosity is waiting for me.  That’s sort of my life,” he said, shaking his head and groaning.  “I’m surprised nothing horrible happened today.  All my parties virtually sucked the big one,” he said, leaning on Derek’s shoulder.  

There was a cocky pique to Derek’s eye.  "Oh come on.  What horrible thing could possibly happen.  You’re past all that, you’re-"

As if fate had a horrendous sense of humor, the wood beneath them cracked, collapsed, and gave way to a massive hole.  Falling through the pier, both Derek and Stiles splashed loudly into the mildly cold water below them, with Derek grabbing Stiles mid-fall and keeping him safely tucked in his body.  One excessively pissed off goose honked at Derek, then fluttered off into the air, hitting Stiles with its wide wingspan.  A toad crawled up Derek’s shirt and jumped on Stiles’ head.

There was a brief moment of silence, only punctuated with a loud ribbit from said toad.

Soaked to the bone, Derek blinked quietly.  “I think that was more my fault than yours.  My ass is pretty huge,” he said, playfully nodding with a straight face.

Stiles laughed.  He slammed his head over and over on Derek’s chest and laughed.  He wasn’t sure if it was from the humor of the situation, Derek’s joke, another lousy example of his life’s luck, or just…  Everything all together combined into one loud release of laughter.

Derek leaned up, pecking a kiss on Stiles’ lips, and holding him tight against his body.  He let up, laughing himself.  “You shouldn’t laugh at my chubby bubble ass, it has feelings too,” he said playfully.

“Oh my god,” Stiles snorted, shaking his head and attempting to get the toad off his head.  

Derek helped Stiles up from the muck, standing up, both of them covered in a mixture of water and mud from the shallow end of the lake.  He swiped off some of the mud from Stiles’ pants, laughing as Stiles did much of the same.

Even being disgusting and wet, Stiles was…  Elated.

He'd heard that this was what having a mate was like.  His mother and father had been the human equivalent of mates, and told him stories about what it would be like.  Telling him that someday things would be better, and that someday he'd meet someone to be the light in his darkness.  Someone who would complete him and be the one to

Derek...  Derek was all those things.  

Just touching Derek set his heart into an overdrive, like a hummingbird's heartbeat.  When their eyes met, he just wanted to never look anywhere else in the world.  This was...  This was forever.

Suddenly, that knot didn’t seem so big in his stomach anymore.

Derek rose an eyebrow.  "What?" he asked, beaming playfully.

Stiles laughed.  “Who knew that adding water made you even more sexy," he said, slapping off some more mud off Derek’s rear-end.

Derek banged his head against Stiles' forehead, and he just laughed.  "I guess you could say you're...  Wet for me?" he asked.

"Oh my fucking God, you did not just-" Stiles said, banging his head right back against Derek, unable to hold back his snorts.  

They stayed like that for a little longer, just laughing in the mucky water around them, until they could hear footsteps  against the other end of the pier.

"Whoa!  You guys okay?" Scott asked, as several of the other pack members came to join them out by the now broken pier.

Isaac pulled Stiles up out of the water, while Scott and Boyd helped Derek right up.

Just smiling, Stiles nodded.  “Yeah..  I think I’m going to be okay,” he answered back.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my updates haven't been as frequent. I've been working on a huge addition to "Overcoming Me", a sort of "after story" featuring Liam, so I've been writing a lot on that monster. I've also been writing on my other stories, so... While I got a lot accomplished this week, none of it was actually publishable and finalized until just now. Sorry! D:


	12. Chapter 12

**_In August of 2007, Stiles Hale would find himself the subject of a rumor around town, with a brand new nickname.  Though this one?  He would be okay with this one._ **

****

++++++++++++++++

Stiles tried to put Kira’s prediction far out of his memory.  As she said, it wasn’t an accurate manner of planning for the future.  That, and he had his pack now.  What was there to worry about?

So Stiles went back to school the following week, trying to focus on his schoolwork, the new pack members, and continuing to adjust to his new life.

Walking along the hall with Isaac, they both stopped at their lockers before heading out to the lacrosse field to wait on their mates to finish practice.  Both males were sweating a little more profoundly than was probably necessary.

Stiles fumbled with his combination lock.  “I blame you for this.  You and Kira!” he exclaimed, wiping his forehead while swinging open his locker violently.

Rolling his eyes, Isaac groaned.  “Stiles, I am cramping like a motherfucker and ruined some of my favorite underwear today because of the surprise visitor.  Do I look like I’m happy that we’re all on the same cycle now?” he spat, throwing his books inside the locker and huffing.  “We’re Omegas, we have our periods in cycles, usually triggered early or late when other Omegas become prominent in the pack.  If anything, its yours and Kira’s fault!” he spat right back.

Attempting to replicate Derek’s eyebrows, Stiles stared down Isaac intently.  “My fault?!  I was just in a chemically induced heat!  I just got done with this shit, and now I’m going to be flaring up again soon!  This is not my fault!” he shouted, slamming his locker shut and turning away (absentmindedly) from a gaggle of Alphas that gathered across the hallway.

“Whatever!  It’s happening!  Let’s just get through it and eat a metric fuckton of pizza tonight, I’ll order supremes!  And breadsticks that you like, asshole!” Isaac yelled.

“Fine!  You’re a really good friend!” Stiles yelled right back bitterly.

“Fine!  I’m glad we could come to this understanding!” Isaac spat, slamming his locker as well.

They slung their bags over their shoulders and were getting ready to leave.  At least, until both of their ears perked up at the sound of words being exchanged.

_“So dude…  Stiles, am I right or a I right?!” a male said._

_“Dude, you are so right,” another replied._

_"Can you believe him?" A woman asked._

Stiles held his breath, waiting for the ridicule to come.  Even if most of the people had come to find him attractive, he figured here was more than half who still thought of him as the cursed kid.  That was a nickname he probably wouldn’t lose for a very long time, if ever.

“Stiles, we don’t have to listen to them,” Isaac said, putting his hand out in front of stiles.  A ball of flames erupted from the human’s palm.  “I could fry them.  Would you like original or extra crispy?” he asked.

“Isaac.  What have we said about burning the people that made fun of me before?” Stiles asked exasperatedly.

“We do it!  We do it a lot!” Isaac said with a crazy grin on his face.

Stiles pushed Isaac’s hand down, where the flames died out in a wisp of smoke.

 

_“The dude is…  Like…  Awesome.  I’m so fucking jealous I could die!” one of the male Betas said loudly._

_“Him and his fucking perfect life.”_

_Stiles did a double take with Isaac, trying to hid behind his locker and packmate.  Had he really heard that right?  Was someone really…  Did they really?_

_“You got that right.  Did you see him pin that Boyd guy in gym class?  Dude could be a badass hunter or some shit if he can beat a werewolf now!”_

_“Who in their right mind volunteers to fight a full-grown werewolf!  You also know Boyd wasn’t holding back, he’s like king of the wrestling team and shit!  He’e Derek Hale’s second in command for crying out loud!”_

_“I heard he’s got like weird police training from his mom and dad.  Like super-psycho-murder-everything police training!”_

_“Who said that?  Ten bucks says they’re full of shit.”_

_“Jackson Hale, used to be Whittemore?  You really think he’d BS someone, especially if it made someone else look good?  Told a class not to fuck with Stiles, he’s crazy strong.”_

_“Seriously?”_

_“Yes seriously!  Also, did you hear that he’s practically banging Derek Hale?  Like they are literal mates and everything!  Motherfucker nabs the hottest lay in the whole school before we even have a chance…”_

_“He’s strong.  He’s sexy.  He’s got Derek motherfucking Hale.”_

_“I hate my life.”_

_"Stupid sexy Stiles!"_

 

A loud snort behind them shot Isaac and Stiles up in the air.  They turned to meet Jackson, Derek and Scott’s wet faces, fresh from the shower.  They all had a same goofy grin on their faces.

“Stupid Sexy Stiles?  A Simpsons rip off, but still funny as hell,” Jackson said, laughing under his breath.

“I like that name.  Fits you,” Derek said, planting a kiss on his Stiles’ forehead and pulling him in for a tight hug.

"Stupid sexy Stiles!  He makes me masterbate furiously all night long!" Isaac joked, mocking the sounds of the earlier Alphas and Betas.

"Stupid Sexy Stiles!  He's got a hot mate and a nice ass!  Life's not fair!" Jackson whined loudly.  He pouted in an exaggerated fashion.

“Stupid Sexy Stiles!  He’s so dreamy and I want to bang him!” Scott egged on, using a deep masculine tone.

Blushing, Stiles flicked each and every one of them on the nose and forehead.  “You think you're all so cute!" He said, unable to hold back a smug smile.

They all laughed quietly, Derek pulling Stiles close by the waist and the two walking towards the entrance of the school.  Scott was just as grabby with Isaac, and Jackson seemed to take notice.

“So when are you guys going to finally mate?  Like the actual mating bites, sex, knotting, full stuff?” Jackson asked curiously.

Isaac opened up the door that led them to the outside parking lot, Scott waiting beside him as the rest of them exited.

“Any day now, the way Derek’s always staring at Stupid Sexy Stiles,” Scott quipped.

“Scott!” Stiles shouted, shooting him a “cut the shit” glare.

Derek chuckled.  “We’re courting right now Jackson.  Didn’t you do that with Lydia?” he asked.

Jackson shrugged.  “Not really.  My family’s not traditional on courting, and Lydia’s a banshee, so…  Yeah, not big on that.  Not that we’ve mated yet either, but…  Seems stupid to wait, you guys are all like delusionally happy,” he added.

They all made a beeline to the family SUV, a purchase courtesy of Laura to save on the pack’s egregious spending on gas between 3 or 4 vehicles.  Kira and Lydia both had after-school activities, while Boyd and Erica had already left earlier to do their own things.  

Derek prodded Jackson away from the front seat, ensuring his mate got shotgun, much to Stiles’ satisfaction.

“Stupid Sexy Stiles,” JAckson mumbled under his breath with a curved, smug smile.

Isaac and Scott both pouted in unison, sliding into the backseat.  “Stupid sexy Stiles is Derek’s favorite now!” Isaac shouted, fake-sobbing into Scott’s shoulder.

“Guys!  Seriously!?” Stiles belted out in a low flush.

Derek chuckled, taking his place in the driver’s seat, rearing the engine to life as he swerved out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

“But to answer your question Jackson…  Courting is very traditional in the Hale family.  We believe in forming a genuine bond, a genuine connection before hopping in the sack.  Even if we know we’re all mates, without a doubt, the mating bite, at least for my family, is not something to be taken lightly.  It’s…  It’s a lifelong bond.  A lifelong mark that shows we’ll forever be a part of each other’s lives.  To me, and to most of us, that means more than a night of unbridled pleasure,” Derek answered eloquently.

Stiles and Derek shared a smile between each other.  A silent appreciation of each other.

“Even with Stupid Sexy Stiles?  From what the rumors say, he’s a good lay,” Isaac asked in a deadpan.

“Can we just call him Triple S?  Saying Stupid Sexy Stiles is a mouthful,” Scott asked.  

“Stupid Sexy Stiles is a mouthful by himself,” Jackson added.

The three in the back cracked up at that, snickering and laughing over each other.

“GUYS.  We were having a moment!” Stiles exclaimed.

Derek nodded, scrunching his face up.  “I was actually swave!  Motherfucking swave!” he whined, pouting as they all stopped at a red light.

Stiles patted Derek’s thigh.  “It’s okay Der.  It’s the thought that counts,” he said, pressing a kiss on Derek’s cheek.

A soft moment in the front, a laughing fit in the back.  All broken as Scott’s ears twitched.  

“Hey…  Turn up the radio,” Scott ordered.  His voice was hard.  Not a typical Scott request.  A nervousness that silenced Isaac and Jackson’s laughter.

Stiles and Derek exchanged a nervous glance, and Stiles turned up the radio.

 

_“...I repeat.  A rogue imp has been spotted by two local hunters in the Forest Lake Area.  After the murder of two waste disposal workers in the local dump, local county Hunter Enforcement Agents began tracking the grief trail to a local clearing.  The imp, known as “Bel”, is to be considered powerful and extremely dangerous.  All persons in Alameda County should be on the lookout.  If encountered, please contact the local HEA agency.  When last located, the imp was on route to the Beacon Hills region.  Hunter sources have speculated based on eyewitness accounts that the imp is freshly released from a human host and is currently seeking out his host once more.”_

 

The car went deadly silent.

“There’s no way.  Stiles, it’s just a coincidence,” Derek said, taking Stiles’ hand in his and clutching it tightly.

 

“ _Bel is roughly five feet five in height, with pitch black hair, a pale complexion, and silver mercury eyes.  His physical appearance is that of a high school teenager.  Many freckles on his face, and a thin body type.”_

Stiles’ face and heart dropped.  His eyes blew out, breathing in and out slowly.  Kira’s prediction was running through his face again.

“The thing in the mirror…  It was an…  An imp?” Stiles asked nervously.

Derek gripped Stiles’ hand as hard as he could while keeping his eyes focused on the road.  “We’ll talk to Peter, he knows plenty about the supernatural.  We’ll figure out what to do and how he’s done all this to you.  We’ll stop him,” he said.

Isaac cleared his throat nervously.  “I uh…  I’m getting close to mastering banishing magic.  I’ll focus more on that studying right now,” he said, turning to Scott.  “We can go out another night, I’ve got to get this right,” Isaac said intently. a passion burning in his eyes..

Scott and Jackson both growled under their breath.

“Stiles, it’s not going to get anywhere near you.  I swear on my fucking life,” Jackson roared immediately.

Scott nodded, his nose flaring in the process.  “The bastard is dead,” he said, already in half shift as his ears pointed backwards.

Despite the chill in the air, Stiles felt warm with three sets of hands all touching him protectively on the back.

“I think you’re all forgetting something,” Stiles said quietly.  His free hand balled into a fist, a deep growl in his throat forming as his muscles tensed.  “I get the bastard first.”

 

+++++

Being a newly born demon in a makeshift body of grief made traveling difficult.  Magic was possible, but teleportation or flight would take too much out of him without a host to fuel him.

Dressed in the outfit he’d stolen off the garbage worker’s corpse, the jumpsuit was itchy and oversized, but limited the attention he’d have strutting around naked.

Sighing at the long walk, the imp ran his fingers through his fake hair.  

“Why couldn’t I ever have bothered to learn how Genim drove?  Could’ve stolen a car or something,” he muttered quietly.

Passing by more and more trees, the imp grunted as he stopped for a break.  Checking his left hand, he could see the outline of black patching through his pale skin.  

“Stupid body.  Gotta find the boy again, fast.  If I don’t get back inside of him, I’ll waste away to nothing in a week or more,” he commented, scoffing.  

Stepping forward, the monster caught a bullet between his index and middle finger with his good hand.  He turned to the side, sighing as he finally felt the other presence.  A presence previously hidden by a wave of magic.

“How lovely.  A hunter,” the imp said with a playful smirk.

Falling out of a tree, a man in his later forties landed on his two feet, a rifle pointed expertly at the monster.  His salt and pepper greying brown hair and muscular figure told a tale of many successful years of hunting.  

"Come quietly imp.  I know you're not human, and you reek of blood.  Your demonic energy is high, high off the life energy from human blood. I found you after tracking the grief trail you left behind.  I’m taking you in on suspicion of your involvement of the local murders in Forest Lake,” the hunter said, reaching into the back of his pocket to snag rune-emblazoned handcuffs.

The imp smirked, chuckling to himself.  “What’s your name, hunter?  I’m curious,” he asked.

Cautiously, the hunter leveled his rifle against the imp’s head.   “Chris Argent.  Registered Class S Hunter, Class A Hunting License.  I have the authority and training to kill you if you put up a struggle.  Do you understand?” he spat.

Chuckling, the Imp just shook his head.  “Oh.  I understand, I think you’re the one that doesn’t understand.  I think you should walk away now, I’m feeling rather generous,” he replied quietly.

Chris laughed with a cocky smile.  “You’re no threat to us.  You’re just a lonely little species of demon that wants affection and love.  An emotion that you can’t feel or experience any time in your sad selfish little life.  So you spread grief wherever you go, looking for ways to destroy happiness in human lives.  Finding a host to spread misery from.  That’s all you are.  A pathetic little creature that can only spread misery.  You’re weak.  A nuisance more than any-”

Before he could finish his sentence, thousands of strands of thread came out of the imps back.  They wrapped around Chris, the man too late to reach for his Hunter’s knife.  Wrapping around and around the hunter, the threads eventually formed a cocoon-like oval around Chris’ body.  

The imp moved forward, pushing Chris to the ground with a loud thump, slamming his foot into the man’s jaw.  The bone in the man’s face broke on contact.

"My name...  Is Bel.  And you pathetic little human?  If you so ever much as call me anything but that, I’m going to make you suffer more than you already are going to,” he explained, kicking Chris in the stomach several times in a row, until a steady trickle of blood began seeping out of the man’s mouth.

Chris continued to struggle inside of the strands, kicking at the bottom of the sac.  He grunted and groaned on each strike, but flashes of green healing magic sparked beneath the red fabrics, attempting to prevent internal bleeding.  His lopsided jaw, however, remained skewed to the left.  

Bel growled, slamming his foot into Chris’ shoulders.  “I can feel love you piece of shit.  I can feel affection.  You’re wrong..  You’re all wrong!  All the time!  I can feel love!  I can feel it!” he screamed, over and over again.  The monster’s composure wavered, eyes shaking crazily and finding it difficult to focus.

The growling got worse, with Bel grabbing Chris off the floor and tightly wringing his neck.  “That little boy Genim…  He had it all.  Best parents in the world.  A nice home.  I wanted it…  I wanted all of it, and I was going to take it.  I was going to have all of that.  I was going to have a mom and a dad!  I was going to have a nice home!  I was going to be the best son in the world!  The brat didn’t deserve it!  I deserved it!  I deserved that love!  He should have died!  I should have taken his place!  I was going to show the world I could love!”

Chris’ face turned a pale blue, staring painfully into Bel’s deep red eyes as the air was being choked out of him.  

Bel shook Chris by the neck.  “They did it wrong.  Claudia and John.  They did everything wrong, they had to die!  I had to kill them!  It was never the same!  I didn’t smile like the brat did, even on the inside!  It was their fault!  It was that brat’s fault!  He needed to suffer, that’s the only reason why!  But I can feel it!  I can feel it you asshole!  I can feel it, you’re wrong!  You’re wro-”

A bullet fired and echoed in the back of the woods.  Bel felt his left eye implode from the back of his head, as the bullet dislodged from his eye forcefully, then shot through the red threads trapping Chris.  

Bel’s face paled, he dropped Chris and screamed painfully as he cover his left eye.  The sludge wasn’t healing the open wound, while black blood trailed down his face.

Chris scrambled, dragging himself away from the imp and pulling out his knife.  The man forcefully shoved his jaw back into place, screaming as he tried to heal it in a glittering green light.  

Running out of the forest, a teenage woman held a rifle similar to Chris’s in her arms.  Her long brown hair was back in a ponytail, combat SWAT armor covering a pale green t-shirt and jeans.  On her knees, she fired several more shots into Bel’s chest and shoulders, all blocked by an invisible barrier.

Bel, still clutching his eyes, roared at the girls’ direction.

“Demon without a host can’t heal a holy bullet.  Surrender now, or you’re going to die a horrible death.  Allison Argent.  Class C Hunter.  Class C Hunting license,” Allison called out, flashing a badge from her hip.

A loud cackle escaped Bel’s throat.  He finally removed his hand from his eye, where a black blob created a makeshift eye-patch.  The socket was effectively blind now.

“How about you surrender?  Let me show you the horror of a decade of suffering can bring,” Bel said in a hissing laughter, snapping his fingertips in the process.

Chris and Allison jumped away in an instant, as thorn-covered vines erupted from the ground and shot after them, aiming for their throats.  

Both hunters deftly dodged the attacks.  As they turned to face the monster, all they were met with was air and a blank space.  

“Shit,” Allison spat, running over to her father.  She placed her hand on his jaw, assisting in the healing process.  “What the fuck was that!?  Imps are some of the weakest demons out there!  That should have been easy!” Allison shrieked.

Chris nodded.  “I thought so too.  I was wrong, the creature must have had a host at some point.  He built up negative energy to make him a viable threat,” he said, shaking his head.  “Now the thing’s going crazy without his source of energy.  Not to mention the emotional breakdown that imps go through mentally. In short, we’ve got a berserk imp.  He’s spiraling, and will probably do anything in his power to get his host back,” he explained, standing up with Allison’s assistance.  “Call the media.  We need to let everyone know what’s they’re up against,” he explained.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

In August of 2007, Stiles would experience his first heat with an Alpha, and it would be everything he’d ever hoped for.  Well, mostly.

 

+++++++++++++++

News about “Bel” (or just what Stiles had always assumed was in “rational” self) came at the worst possible time.  Though as soon as Stiles explained about the radio report to Peter, the older Omega went into a frenzy of contacts and research.

While secretly hoping nothing came of it, that the description of “Bel” was just a coincidence to how he looked before the grief burn (as well as the monster in the mirror), things in his life always tended to shit all over him.

Sure, it made a lot of sense now that everyone had a chance to finally put the pieces together with the assistance of the Argent Hunters and Bel’s insane ramblings.  Even Stiles had to admit that everything fit perfectly.

The imp that attacked him when he was younger, the imp his mother had fried to a crisp, somehow got its spirit sealed inside of him when his father’s first aid attempted to keep Stiles’ blood in his body.  

Given Peter’s explanation of Imps, a lot of Stiles’ suffering also made sense.  Imps were creatures that wanted so desperately to be human and feel human emotions of happiness and joy that they frequently are driven to madness with envy.  They lash out and create misery for others, under the mentality of “if I can’t have it, nobody can”.

Which is why Bel made Stiles’ life so miserable.  He wanted to BE Stiles.  Wanted to have his life, have his family, his friends, and everything in between.  Sitting inside of Stiles’ body, he realized year after year that it would never actually happen.

All of that was probably very eloquent, very dramatically poetic, and likely needed to be analyzed, but at the moment Stiles had his mind elsewhere.  Like his first non-suppressed heat, and God damn was it nothing like the medically induced one that he’d been mostly asleep through.  

He was practically naked, just in a pair of his long (heat-friendly) silken boxer shorts and laid out on top of his equally near-naked mate in the living room.  Sweat and pheremones leaked from every inch of his body, while his mind and stomach did backflips in burning off what little grief he’d accumulated since his last heat.  Oh, and the inside of his ass had a constant “itch” about it, and Stiles knew that the days after his heat, he would be met with his first ever experience with post-heat-syndrome (PHS).  That two to three day window when he wanted to be fucked within an inch of his life.  

Which wasn’t helped at all by the fact that Derek was so…  UMPH.  His mate hadn’t left his side since the news about Bel (assuring him that they’d handle the asshole together and move past everything), and as soon as Stiles went into heat, was the very definition of gentleman.

Derek never let Stiles go, keeping contact and insuring that the heat did its job of burning away any misery or worry.  He fed Stiles, wiped the sweat off Stiles, gave the most inspiring shoulder and back massages, and just made everything feel...

Euphoric.  

Even in the heat-addled brain rejoicing over grief being removed from his system, that was the perfect word to describe the situation.

His head, buried in Derek’s furry chest, was content to let his eyes drift open and closed.  Napping had been his favorite pastime the last day or so, and Derek was his favorite pillow.

“Hey…  Don’t go to sleep just yet, we’re going to need to get some food and water in you.  You are sweating like a pig,” Derek chuckled, wiping a fresh streak of sweat away from Stiles’ forehead.  Shuddering at the smell of it, Derek laughed again.  “And you said my rutting pheromones were bad.  You smell like a lump of sex,” he said.

Stiles felt his eyebrows furrow.  “Asshole.  There is no way I’m worse than you.  You smelt like a used jockstrap,” he retorted.

“Oh really?  Well you smell like a cum-soaked sock after a weekend porn marathon,” Derek said, with a cocky grin on his face.  

“You really want to start this Derek?  Because you do not want to know the levels of debauchery that my mind can go to,” Stiles said, wiping his sweating hand right on Derek’s neck, in a perfect spot that would likely trail his scent up to Derek’s nose for hours.

A low grade growl ripped in Derek’s throat.  “That is so not fair you sneaky little bastard,” he said, nipping a love bite on top of Stiles’ ear.

Beside them, equally half-naked Isaac started groaning loudly as he banged his head on Scott’s shoulders.  The other Omega, drenched in the same sweat, had long since straddled Scott’s groin and clung onto the man for dear life.  While Stiles' heat seemed to focus on napping, Isaac's was a little more "physical" in nature.

“Could you two please not bicker about sex or sex related things?  It’s bad enough I have to hang onto Scott here and not jump his dick, but I really don’t need bad sex jokes adding to that frustration,” Isaac said, leaning up and marking a dark hickey on Scott’s already purple and blue neck.  

Nostrils flaring, Scott let out a low, yet happy, growl.  “Isaac…  Babe, you’re going to have to stop that.  My neck already feels sore from the first layer of hickies,” he said, contradicting himself as he bared his neck even further open for Isaac to play with.  Because who could actually say no to Isaac?

Pouting, Isaac reluctantly listened to his mate, backing off and instead planting a chaste kiss on Scott’s nipple.  “Sorry.  I get kiss-happy on my heats.  It’s almost over though, I can feel it, so just bare with me a little longer.  Besides, they look pretty on you.  Like my personal little canvas,” he answered, already moving up and planting his lips on one of the few non-marked places and kissing loudly.

Halfway to sleepy-town again, Stiles stirred himself away as he groaned at the sight of his brother’s nipple getting played with.

“Derek, remind me again why I have to sit here and watch my brother get his “thing” on?” Stiles grumbled, leaning on the opposite side of Derek’s chest and looking away.

Derek chuckled.  “Alpha Insurance.  Since you guys wanted to spend your heats with us, we had to make sure nobody crossed any lines Talia didn’t want crossed.  So I watch after Scott and Scott watches after me.  Because we sure as hell aren’t about to let our packmates get their groove on, especially when our brothers are involved,” he said, moving his hand to Stiles’ shoulder and trying to unkink yet another sore muscle.

Isaac groaned.

“Lucky Kira.  She and her girlfriend get to have all the fun they want in her mom’s house,” Isaac said, in an envious tone.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Well Kira’s mother and Kira have a different culture than we do.  Kitsune do their thing, we werewolves do another, and we need to respect that,” he answered.

“That, and sex is so much better post mating-bite,” Peter answered.

Jumping out of their skins, the Alphas and Omegas immediately all straightened up, sitting a little less intimately than they had before.

Peter just rolled his eyes as he strolled in from the back door.  “As you were.  So long as you’re not penetrating, I could care less what you do to fight off the heat.  Seen it all, done it all.  Actually, your mother did much worse than you’re currently doing when she was your age, Derek.  At least you're wearing underwear,” he said coyly.

“Ew.  Do not need to know that,” Derek said, faking a gagging noise.

Despite Peter’s “permission”, both Scott and Isaac seemed to lighten up on the PDA as the older Omega sat his briefcase down on the coffee table and took his place on the free recliner.  

“Stiles are you up for talking?” Peter asked.

A pounding desire to sleep behind his eyes said otherwise, but Stiles nodded anyway.  

“Good, I’ve spoken with the Hunters and gotten an update on our case.  Based on evidence retained at the crime scene during Stiles’ attack as a child, and comparing it to the evidence during the battle with the Hunters, we can confirm that the demon “Bel” is indeed the one that was responsible for the murders in Forest Lake.  This is most likely the demon Stiles saw in the mirror, and is likely the cause of much of the strife in Stiles’ life.  Nothing new there, I believe we already drew that conclusion a few days ago,” Peter explained.

The confirmation did little to settle Stiles’ stomach.  He intertwined Derek’s fingers in his, and gripped as tightly as he could.  While fear settled in his stomach, rage flared behind his eyes.  

“This is a good thing though, right?  I mean, it’s a threat that can actually be taken care of now!  If the bastard dies, that’s aidos to Stiles’ problem forever!” Scott exclaimed.

 _ **That**_ thought brought a smile to Stiles’ face.  Leave it to Scott to be the optimist of the group and see the light in the blood-soaked corpses.

“More than that, it’ll bring your mother back from the brink of death,” Peter answered.

A chill went down both Stiles and Scott’s spines.  Their eyes went wide, and both of their mates unattached from them for a moment, sitting to their sides.

“W..  What?” Stiles stammered.

Peter nodded.  “After all of this came out in the open, I began testing Melissa with more…  Spiritual means.  A consulting local physician came in.  We can confirm without a doubt that what our tests deemed as “Leukemia” is actually just grief toxins being manipulated to act like Leukemia.  It’s very likely that the demon used Stiles and his proximity to Melissa to manipulate the stored grief in Stiles to infect Melissa.  Imps are very good at that, and given Stiles’ over-abundance of grief energy, it would be simple to-”

“PETER!” Derek screamed.

Stiles hadn’t even realized it, but he’d started shaking about halfway through Peter’s explanation.

The older Omega’s face softened.  “Oh…  Oh Stiles, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Stiles didn’t even bother to hear Peter’s explanation.  It WAS his fault, just like he’d always really known.  Just by being close to Melissa, he’d..  He’d poisoned her.  

He tried to lift himself off the couch, only to be drug right back down into Derek’s lap.  The guilt started melting away, and rational thoughts returned to his brain.  

Because it wasn’t his fault.  It was Bel’s.

No…  Because it _**was**_ his fault.  If he’d just died when he was supposed to when he was little, then things would have never been like this.  

More melting grief took him by surprise.  That guilt died instantly.  He wasn’t the demon, and he hadn’t made that decision.

Trying to lift up again, Stiles struggled in Derek’s arms, calmed by a gentle kiss to his neck.

“Stiles…  Don’t.  This wasn’t your fault.  Stay with me, okay?  You didn’t do anything wrong.  You’re the victim here just as much as anyone else.  Bel couldn’t have gotten stronger without torturing you, tearing at everything you’ve ever loved.  None of that is your fault,” Derek said firmly.  

Scott was off the couch, in a T-shirt and pajama pants in half a second before he crashed into Stiles with a huge hug.  Isaac wasn’t far behind him, throwing on a pair of silken pajama pants and coming straight to Stiles’ side and taking his hand.  

“Dude, don’t you even FUCKING think of going there.  Nope, don’t you dare, it’s not your fault.  How the hell were you supposed to know you had that thing in you?  You couldn’t!  That’s how!” Scott exclaimed.

“Seriously!  How’d you feel if it had been one of us instead?!  What if it’d been me?!  Would you blame me if I hurt people like Talia and Kyle?!” Isaac bellowed.

Stiles knew that was true.  With his heat clearing his head, he knew that if Isaac or Scott or even Derek had been the one involved with this?  He wouldn't blame them, so why should he blame himself?

Even Peter was right beside him, pressing his hand up against Stiles’ shoulder and gripping it tightly.  “I didn’t mean it to sound like that, I’m sorry.  I’m clinical by nature, and I tried to explain how the “disease” was transmitted.  I…  I’m not blaming you, not by a mile.  It’s Bel’s fault and we’re going to take care of him.  I’ve already called in some favors with the Hale family, they’re sending their best and brightest to help with the tracking,” he said with a fond smile.

Derek raised an eyebrow.  “Who?” he asked cautiously.

Peter chuckled.  “Cecil.  Marianne.  Tadaki.  Haru.  Miguel.  Samael.  Luci.  Axel.  Christopher.  Walter.  Wolfgang.  Harold.  Carter.  Cole.  Maya.  Great Grandma Ingbert,” he said, listing off several on his head.

“Which Carter?” Derek countered, concern covering his face.

“Carter R, not Carter D, I’m not a fool,” Peter replied with a firm smile.

Isaac and Derek both whistled loudly.  

“Damn.  You don’t fuck around,” Isaac announced.

“That’s the main family’s enforcers.  How the hell did you manage to get them all out here, to my tiny-ass territory?” Derek asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Smiling, Peter chuckled.  “Well, they won't be here immediately, but...  I kindly reminded them that they all had several children who’d soon be going through their first waves of heat and ruts.  Children who are likely going to need a medical professional to help them through it, and I also mildly threatened that I might find myself busy here should those calls ever come through.  Also helped when I said it was Talia’s oldest son’s mate,” he admitted, with a sly grin.  

“You blackmailed…  About 16 of the toughest Hale Alphas?” Derek said, his mouth lowering in disbelief.

Quickly moving his hand up to Stiles’ hair, Peter ruffled the dampened brown hair.  “Nothing I wouldn’t do for one of my pups,” he said with a warm smile.  

The touches combined with Peter’s assurances destroyed what little guilt he might have had left.  Peter had been right those few weeks ago, heats were the single best way to get all the crap out of his system.  He was sure that he’d feel different in a few days, but just for that moment?  

Stiles leaned back into Derek.  “Then I guess I shouldn’t worry?” he said, letting out a deep breath.

“Nah.  Between the Hales, the Hunters and you?  That fucker doesn’t stand a chance,” Scott answered.

“I’m mostly scared about Stiles when he gets a hold of that thing.  Werewolf or not, I’ve got ten bucks on him ripping the thing’s arms off,” Derek said with a colorful flashing of fangs.

“Stupid Sexy Stiles even has muscles!” Isaac whined.

“Oh my fucking God, that is not ever going to stick!” Stiles said, pushing Isaac off him and onto the floor.

The four of them laughed, while Peter rolled his eyes.

“In the meantime, before Stiles goes full-hulk on us, Allison and Chris, the two who fought with the creature, will be staking out near us and tracking the creature.  Allison will be going to classes with you for a while, standing outside the rooms and escorting you between classes Stiles,” Peter explained.

“Wait..  Why?  We’re pretty much all werewolves, why do we need Demon Hunters guarding us?” Derek asked immediately.  There was a wound in his pride, and he pulled Stiles closer to him.  Which, given that he was practically inside of Derek, was pretty damn close.

Peter sighed, but also leaned over to pat Derek on the knee.  “There there big guy, it’s nothing against you not being able to protect your mate you hulking sensitive Alpha.  It’s more that the imp is rated a Class A demon at this point, and the Hunters have to get involved by law.  Also, I appreciate the “hoo rah” mentality, I highly suggest you leave this to the professionals and not go after the creature on your own,” he explained.

Mildly sated, Derek nodded.

Stiles, on the other hand, piqued his ears up in interest.  “Wait…  Why’s an imp that strong?  They’re like Class D demons on a good day, and most of them are Class E.  How’d he get that strong?!” he exclaimed.

Peter cleared his throat, stepping away from Stiles and glancing at his feet.  “The grief he absorbed over the years from you is fueling his power.  I’m sure you know, but grief can be used as energy.  Given he had about twelve years to eat off you?  I’m surprised he’s not stronger,” he answered.

“PETER!” Derek shouted again, as Stiles dropped his head.

“Sorry!” Peter responded again, slapping himself in the head.  “I’m clinical, sorry!  So sorry!” he said, already moving back over to pat Stiles on the back again.

Stiles groaned, watching his overprotective packmates already stepping up to be there for him.  Just like his mom and dad had done ages past.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

In August of 2007, Stiles Hale would soon begin the task of extracting revenge for the death of his mother.  Though not in a way he’d ever expected or wanted.

 

++++++++

 

Days passed, close to a week.  Allison and Chris followed Stiles around everywhere he went, and most the Hale Enforcers had arrived en masse to begin tracking the demon.  

Though they ultimately continued to come up dry on their missions.  Trails would pop up around Beacon Hills with the creature’s grief-loaded scent, only to disappear a few hours later.  

A few sightings of a man resembling Stiles had been reported, and the police department seemed to be fielding dozens of calls about the demon, which prompted several PSAs around the radio.  More hunters poured in, hearing about the Class A Imp, most of them members of the Argent Clan.

The Hale Home, naturally, became the hub for the Hunters and the Hale Enforcers, with more people than Stiles had ever been around in his life.  It wasn’t uncommon for him to trip over machine guns, shotguns, and sniper rifles worthy of countless overcompensating jokes.

Really, it was borderline ridiculous.

Stiles wasn’t sure how Peter managed to get the town in such an uproar, or how the police department were funding their manhunts, but…  If Bel was in Beacon Hills, there was no chance in hell of him hiding anywhere.  Hell hath no fury like Peter Motherfucking Hale.

Standing mouth agape against the staircase railing with Boyd, Stiles watched one of the many hunter carrying down boxes of ammo.

“One imp.  One imp has everybody in a panic and stocked the entire combined weaponry of the International Defense Force.  Jesus,” Stiles said, leaning on Boyd for support.  

The Second chuckled.  “Man, did you forget the part where he beat up that Class S Hunter and his daughter?  Plus, they fucked with the Argents.  Who, if you think about it, is pretty much the equal of the International Defense Force,” Boyd explained, patting Stiles on the back.  “Seriously though.  The dude’s a bastard and needs to be gutted.  Relax and let it happen,” he explained.

Wriggling in place, Stiles grumbled.  “I want to be the one to wring his neck…  Rip his arms off.  Something,” he answered.

Boyd pulled Stiles into a side hug.  “Listen, bro, I love you, but this guy is a bit much for teenagers.  I’m big on the were-pride and pack strength and that kind of shit as much as anyone, but in reality?  We can’t deal with this.  It’s best to just let the hunters do their thing,” he explained.

“I know,” Stiles spat back immediately, furrowing his eyebrows.  “Don’t have to like it though,” he answered.

Rolling his eyes, Boyd patted Stiles on the back and led him upstairs.  “Come on bud, let’s watch some TV while we wait on Scott to get back with the pizza.  Everyone should be getting here pretty soon anyway with the movies.  We’ll setup in the Alpha Pair room and get out of everyone’s way,” he answered.

Reluctantly, Stiles nodded.  “Fine,” he answered, following after Boyd.  “By the way…  Who’s the dead ringer for Derek that’s in the tacky polo that keeps eating all the leftovers?” he asked, pointing to the 26-something that jogged down the stairs just after them.

“Cousin Miguel.  He’s kind of a dick, but in a weirdly cool way.  He’s all broody and shit, but he's like crazy strong and a pretty good trainer for the Betas.  Though he eats anything in site, especially the leftover pizza that’s CLEARLY labeled for someone else,” Boyd answered, rolling his eyes.

“Well then Cousin Miguel is a dick,” Stiles answered simply.

A loud sound of a fist hitting the kitchen table echoed in the large hallways.

“A cool dick!” Stiles added reluctantly as Boyd laughed his ass off.

++++++

Checking his phone for the umpteemth time, Scott barely found himself aware of the local speeding laws.  There was no time to waste, he had to get to Stiles, immediately.  The sun was slowly setting overhead, painting a gold over the landscape.

 

_Stiles:  Scott, I’m at mom’s house.  Can you come over?  Something’s happened and I don’t want to talk about it over the phone.  It’s about Bel, and Derek and everything.  Just hurry._

 

Scott arrived as fast as his speed would allow.  Bursting through the doors to what had once been his childhood home, he stood long strides towards the living area.  The furniture, still covered in white sheets until the house could be sold, gave off a dusty scent about the otherwise homey aroma.

“Stiles?!  Stiles!?  Where are you?” Scott called out, running his hands through his hair.  He took a deep whiff, expecting the honey-wheat scent.  

While that wasn’t what he got in his nose, Scott tracked the scent quickly enough.  

Upstairs.  Stiles’ old bedroom.

Running up the staircase, Scott didn’t bother knocking.  He just flung the door open, and was met with Stiles.  Just sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty room, legs crossed and head firmly rooted in his hands.

“Stiles!” Scott exclaimed, taking several steps forward and bending down to his brother’s level.  “Stiles, what’s…  What’s wrong?  I got your text,” he said, putting his hand firmly on Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles shook his head.  “I…  I’m just so tired of everything Scott…  I…  I don’t want to deal with this anymore.  I…  I can’t do it,” he explained, his voice thick and heavy with despair.

“Oh?” Scott asked, removing his hand from Stiles.  “Why do you feel that way?  I mean…  We’ve got all this help!  It’s just a matter of time until we take care of the bastard,” he answered.

“I know Scott…  I know, but I-” Stiles said, cut off by a squelching muck of blood.  He looked down, in horror.

Scott ripped his claws into Stiles’ stomach, twisting them around to form a gaping wound.  A low growl ripped in Scott’s voice, as he flashed a set of fangs and snapped towards Stiles’ face.  

Shrieking, Stiles pushed away from Scott, frantically scrambling away from the Alpha and cowering next to a corner.  His eyes, wide in fear,

“Why would you do that?!  WHY!?” Stiles sobbed, a hysterical mess.  He hovered over his knees in a mess.  “I’m your brother!  I..  I’m sorry!  Don’t hurt me Scott!  I won’t…  I won’t complain anymore!” he said, body shivering angrily.

Scott stood back up, growling and stomping towards Stiles.

“You think I’m that stupid?  You think I don’t know what my brother smells like now?  The way he’s supposed to smell?  That his old smell was the problem before?!” Scott growled, face shifting and fangs hanging out of his mouth.  “Besides…  When Stiles texts me, he calls me Assface, no matter what we’re talking about.  Even if he were breaking down and dying,  I’d be Assface,” he screamed, landing a solid curbstomp on “Stiles’” back before the creature dodged away.  “Fucking lowlife piece of shit!  I knew it was you, and I’m going to gut your sorry ass open!” he screamed, roaring until the foundation of the home shook beneath them.

The weeping act ended immediately, as “Stiles’” face shifted to one of irritation.  Standing up on his own two feet, he brushed off the specks of black fluid from his mouth and stomach where Scott had injured him.  They failed to heal in a timely manner.  “You damn wolves have this horrible way of ruining everything.  I thought for sure after his folks died that everything would be fine, I’d have myself a nice Void to inhabit and use as endless energy, but no…  No, of course not,” he said, standing up and letting out a low chuckle.

Stiles shifted in a flash of black, and the pale faced, dark haired, image of Stiles before the grief drain returned.  Bel stood before Scott, arms folded and a wide smile on his face.  ‘I was going to be happy to let you and your mother live.  After all, you were of little consequence to me.  Though now you’ve dared to insult me.  Can’t have that…” he said colorfully.  Pacing back and forth in time with Scott’s movements, tracking him carefully, Bel let out a low guffaw.  “Wonder how I’ll kill you.  Has to be something spectacular, like I did with the brat’s parents.  Like every little thing in his life, adding up into the torrent of grief that was his miserable life,” he added.

Another roar ripped from Scott’s throat, as bell smirked.

“So you killed Stiles’ parents…  You’ve done all this to him?” Scott barked, as the claws on his feet ripped through the fabric of his sneakers.  

Bel stopped pacing.  Instead, he laughed, cheeks wide with glee.

“Oh dear God…  The look on their faces…  The look on their goddamn faces as they watched their son KILL them!  It was priceless!” Bel announced, doubling over in laughter.  “Taking his body and making him kill his own parents!  Wonderful!”

Scott’s anger flushed out of his system, replaced with disgust, terror, and a wet set of eyes.

“That brat…  That fucking brat was so easy to take over after about…  Oh, the time in 2002 when I made him dream of you and his parents dying violently every night for a year.  Knives across their throats, bullets in the head, drowning under a plate glass so that Stiles could watch but never actually save them!  Nightmare after nightmare!  That kid probably slept for 10 hours that year!  Ah…  After that, he was like a walking corpse!   A dream come true for any demon!” Bel announced, chuckling to himself.  His voice sharpened, as though he were experiencing sexual pleasure from his ramblings.

“You…  You bastard,” Scott stammered out, his Alpha furthering his half shift into three-fourths shift.  More wolf than man, but still with a human body.  On a hair trigger, Scott readied himself to pounce, his claws glimmering in the dusk that shone through the window behind them.

“Then…  Oh then, I knew I was close.  Just had to off a parent, and he’d be mine.  Had to be the mother, naturally, she was really the only one, at least to my knowledge, that kept the kid from offing himself.  And…  You know, it’s amazing how a mother would veer out of her lane and into an oncoming vehicle just so she doesn’t hit her precious child who flung himself into traffic…  Even if her precious child was being hijacked by a demon…  You know…  I bet her last thoughts involved her cursing Stiles for killing her…  God, I loved it…” Bel said, with a sly grin.

A growl ripped from Scott’s throat as he edged closer and closer to Bel.  

“Oh, but that naturally didn’t solve anything.  Humans are such an odd bunch.  After his mother died, the brat grew stronger.  Had a new resolve about him from his father, and it pissed me off to no end.  So naturally…  I had to destroy what little hope he had left…  It took me all my power I had to take him over again.  When I did, I took a gun from his father’s cabinet, dressed him up in black, and struck up a conversation with John Stilinski in a mini-mart without him realizing I had a gun.  The man didn’t even see it coming when I pulled out the gun and shot him.  He was in the middle of telling what he thought was Stiles all about their plans for his birthday weekend, out camping on a pristine lake and inviting you to come along for the weekend of fun!  They’d been planning it for MONTHS.  The little joy he’d managed to find, GONE!  GONE by his own hand!” Bel said eagerly.  He licked his lips.

Scott flashed forward, barely visible to the naked eye as he roared forward, claws out and aimed straight for Bel’s neck.  

An attack stopped instantly by Bel’s hand, a hand which shone a pitiable black mess.  Scott’s limbs were tied up in thousands of strands of red, binding them behind the Alpha’s back like handcuffs.  His ankles, bound together, could only trash violently as he was thrown to the ground.

Scott growled, roared, snarled and snapped at Bel, until the demon brought down his foot on Scott’s chest, breaking several ribs in the process.

“Then you and your mother had to come into the picture.  Gave him just that moderate amount of hope to keep him going, be…  “Optimistic”.  Irritating that it was you two that led him to the Hales, and led him to casting me out of his body.  So I felt it fitting to use you in my grand finale,” Bel said, with a curved smile.

Slamming his foot down on Scott’s neck, the Alpha gasped out in pain.

“Howl.  Howl for your pack Scott…  Howl for them to come and save you, howl for them to come to their deaths.  Howl Scott…  Do it,” Bel demanded.

What the demon failed to realized was the flexibility of a wolf’s shift, and the horror of having fangs sinking into an ankle.

Bel screamed, trying to retract his foot, unable to move from the vicegrip of Scott’s jaw.  The wound turned into more of a chunk than anything, nonhealing and spilling out grief in large quantities.

“W…  What?!” Bel said, raising his hand up and ready to strike down on Scott in a manner of horrific ways.  “Get off me you mangy mutt!  You bastard!  HOWL FOR ME YOU BITCH!” he screeched.

Scott blocked Bel’s hand, letting up from his grip on the ankle, and instead snapping onto the beast’s hand.

He would struggle for several moments, taking another chunk out of Bel’s wrist before Scott would find himself unconscious from a solid strike to the back of the head.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The pack had gathered in the Alpha Pair room, or… At least, that’s what they called Derek and Stiles’ newly shared room.  Because apparently, everyone had already decided that Stiles and Derek were going to be the Alpha Pair of the pack some day.

Though while the colorful scenes on the big screen TV was comforting to the pack, Stiles couldn’t help but continue to glance at his watch.  

**_August 22, 8:39 PM_ **

Stiles turned to Derek and Boyd for what felt like the hundredth time.  Scott hadn’t gotten back from pizza pickup, which had been over two hours ago.  Granted, it was possible that Scott got distracted or plotted another couple of stops, but the anxiety was still there.

“Anything?” he asked anxiously, nudging Boyd this time.

Patiently, Boyd shook his head.  “No howls.  No calls for help.  Trust me, I’d say if I heard anything,” he replied.

“Thanks,” Stiles answered, checking his phone again.  He’d called, he’d texted, he’d done everything to get in touch with Scott.  Soon enough, he’d go out to check for him.  Derek would go with him, that was just the kind of mate he had.

Though as his phone lit up, silently, as if his volume had been glitched out.

Stiles felt his blood chill instantly.

 

_Scott:  I have your Assface.  If you want him back, meet me at their graves and give yourself over to me.  Bring any hunters, holy bullets, or your mutts along, and he’s dead.  You do as I say, and I’ll let him live._

_Scott:  I suggest you come running soon as well.  I’m not a patient demon, and he’s not doing very well right now._

_Scott:  I might even let you heal him once I’ve gotten your body back.  After all, we’ll have endless power once you’re a Void.  Anything is possible._

 

“Stiles?” Derek asked.

“Stiles?” Isaac asked.

“You okay there?” Erica asked.

“You’re white as a sheet,” Jackson said.

“Did something happen?” Lydia said.

“Is everything okay?” Kira asked.

Stiles didn’t hear any of them.  Locking his phone, Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes and groaning.  “That Assface got himself in a jam on the way to the pizza.  So of course he’s going to make me go all the way to help him out.  Because…  That’s what brothers do,” he said, carefully crafting his words so that they weren’t a lie that could be detected.  

Sure, they could all probably pick up on his emotional state, but then again, Stiles being sad…  

Wasn’t anything new.

“He forgot his debit card again, didn’t he?” Jackson asked, groaning loudly.

Stiles forced a laugh.  “Well, you know Scott…” he answered, pocketing his phone and not meeting any of their gazes.  He made his way to the door, stopping as he touched the doorknob.  “Oh, and uh…  I may be a while.  I think I’ll stop by Wal-Mart with Scott on the way back if it’s not too late,” he explained.

“Why?  Wal-Mart sucks ass,” Jackson asked.

The grip on the knob became shaky at best, and Stiles put on a fake smile.

“Because in a few hours, it’s going to be my birthday,” Stiles answered, laughing quietly to himself.  “I figured…  I’d get some junk food and sweets to celebrate…  We can all celebrate together.  I’ll…  I’ll have my first good birthday ever,” he said, biting his bottom lip until the pain subsided.

A low roar of excited chattering erupted in the room as Stiles made a semi-graceful exit.  

Though as he made his way for the stairs, a firm hand gripped his.

“You’re hurting.  What’s wrong?” Derek asked immediately.

Stiles couldn’t bare to face the pack as a whole with his stupid-ass impromptu plan.  Yet…  He knew Derek would come.  Of course Derek would come, that was his mate.

Smiling as he clutched Derek’s hand back, Stiles took a deep breath.  

“Derek…  I need you to do something for me, and…  I need you to trust me.  I…  I need my Alpha to trust me.  I need…  I need…  The person I love more than anyone else in this world…  To trust me,” Stiles said, choking on the words as he spun around to meet Derek’s glance.

Putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulders, Derek nodded without a moment’s hesitation.  Determination flared in Stiles’ golden eyes.  

“Anything.”

Stiles nodded.  “I need you to give me something, and…  I need you to be a leader that I know you are,” he explained.

“Anything.” Derek answered again, immediately.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're coming to the final climatic ending. The final battle for Stiles' future and happiness! Oh noes! D:
> 
> Meanwhile... I'd love to hear from you guys what you'd like to see me write next after this project is done. I've got some ideas rolling around, but I'd love to see what you guys think! :)


	15. Chapter 15

_**In August of 2007, Stiles Hale would soon begin the task of extracting revenge for the death of his father.  Though not in a way he’d ever expected or wanted.** _

++++++++

Beacon Hills didn’t have much in the way of graveyards.  A small town on its best days, most of the dearly departed found their final resting place in the Emerald Grove Cemetery, a large expanse of land surrounded on all sides by dense trees.  

The newer section of land off to the very back of the open grove housed the most recent headstone additions.

Hidden from public view thanks to a large mausoleum, Bel found it to be the perfect place for his reunion with Genim.

Humiliated, Scott could only snarl and snap, bound by the arms and legs with tough red metal cuffs.  His left eye, swollen shut, let trails of red blood slowly slide down his cheeks.  Scott’s shirt was torn, with a gaping hole struggling to heal that protruded from his abdomen.

The black ooze Bel had smeared on the wound likely had a lot to do with it.

“Be quiet.  Make too much noise and I’ll put another hole in you.  Further south, so your mate won’t ever know the wonders of parenthood,” Bel spat.

Continuing to struggle helplessly and ignoring the bastard’s warning, Scott soon found the backhand of Bel in his gut, knocking the air out of him.

Scott struggled for air, wheezing in and out slowly from the force of the attack.

Bel scoffed at the disgusting sight of weakness, instead choosing to stare at the graves he’d thrown the boy on.

_Claudia Stilinski_

_John Stilinski_

Slowly, Bel recalled their faces.  Claudia’s gleeful disposition, her warming smile, and bright motherly eyes.  John’s strong will, his goofy grin, and stern fatherly eyes.  He’d grown up around them, watching them raise Genim from inside the boy’s soul.  Perhaps they’d even been a part of raising him.

Fat lot they did, really.  No matter how many times they embraced Genim, shared their love with the boy, or did..  Whatever it was they did as parents, it was never enough.  Even from the inside of Genim’s body, he felt no warmth from them.  No matter how much power he held over the boy, no matter if he could feel and be a part of every sensation Genim experienced, the hole in his chest never closed.  

Their embraces were cold and flat.  As if they were strangers, and not the people who would one day be his parents.

Then there was Scott.  Genim's best friend, always there for the boy, and always a source of hope on Genim's face.  

The man who Genim called brother.

A relationship completely foreign to him.

Bel clenched his fist, ready to strike at the brat for not being there for him.  Why couldn’t he feel the same love?!  WHY!?

Or he would have, if the overwhelming aura of his target didn't distract him first.

Stepping forward from the outskirts of the forest, Stiles' thin frame came into view.  Dressed in his solid black hoodie, and with the hood pulled over his head, the slumped shoulders spoke volumes.

“I’m here…” Stiles’ cracked out.  The words were raw, muffled in a way that made them hard to make out.

Bel smiled.  “Ah.  He comes back.  So nice of my little human farm of grief to join us tonight, isn't’ that right Scott?” he asked, shoving his foot onto Scott’s wound.

The werewolf grunted painfully, but kept his partial shift alive and shot a desperate look at stiles.

“Stiles…  Stiles don’t do this!  Run!  This is my fault, don’t you dare die for me!  Don’t you fuc..  Fuck…  Fucking…  Stiles, what…  Did you…  Stiles!” Scott shouted, as his terrified expression melted into downright shock.  The scent…  Stiles’ scent was…  Heavier.  Almost foreign...

Even under the bulky clothing, Scott could make out lumps that weren’t there before, around the arms and upper torso.  His jeans were tighter than usual, a few rips fraying alongside the leg and thighs.  

The hooded Stiles shot a dark glare at Scott, but not at an eye level.  “Shut up Scott…  I’m doing this, and I need you to trust me.  This is…  This is for more than just me,” he replied.

Scott opened his mouth to protest, silenced as a hidden thumbs up behind Stiles’ body was all the signal he needed.

Missing the unspoken exchanged, Bel kicked off Scott and made his way straight to stiles.  The demon licked his lips, chuckling along the way.

“So…  I suppose you know what happens now,” Bel said, as he moved his hand to Stiles’ cheek.  “I squeeze myself back into your soul, and we act like none of this bullshit ever happened.  That, or…  Well, you’ll have more things to be sad about than mommy and daddy back there,” he said.

Stiles curled his hand into a fist, shirking away from Bel’s touch.  “Let Scott go now.  Then you can…  Do whatever with me, I don’t really care.  I’m tired…  Tired of everything.  Tired of trying to make this life work, what…  What’s the point?” he mumbled quietly.

From Claudia and John’s gravestones, Scott felt his body whine involuntarily.  Just hearing the words shoved a knife in his heart, but…  

The smell grew stronger.  Stiles scent soon became overpowered by something else, something…  Powerful.  The whine vacated immediately.

Bel smirked.  “Once I’m inside of you, you should have some moderate amount of control.  You can free Scott then.  So then…  Shall we?” he answered, trailing his hand down Stiles’ neck and towards his chest.

Slapping away the hand, Stiles backed away.  “One other promise, before I…  Give up,” he said, taking a deep breath.  

“Oh?” Bel asked, with a cocked eyebrow.

Stiles nodded.  “You don’t touch my pack, my pack’s family, and…  You leave Derek alone.  If you do that, then…  I won’t fight you.  I won’t ever fight you.  You can do whatever you want with me, and…  Yeah,” he explained, as his fist relaxed against his side.

“Then you have my word,” Bel answered, scoffing.  “As if your worthless pack interests me in the slightest,” he explained.

Stiles nodded.  "Your word then..." He repeated, stepping forward again.  Stiles allowed Bel to touch his stomach, clenching at the cold sensation.

In a slow thrust, Bel shoved his hands inside Stiles, via a black void.  He pushed forward, met with a mild resistance as he attempted to re-enter the man's soul.

“Stiles!” Scott screeched, snarling and using every ounce of his being to shake loose of his bindings.  A fruitless endeavor.

Still hooded, Scott couldn’t make out Stiles’ face.  Yet the teen was stoic, standing tall and firm as the Imp dug himself deeper into Stiles’ soul.

Bel chuckled.  “I hope you realize Genim, that your pack has to die now and that my word means squat.  Once I’m inside of you, I need to force you back into your old self.  Force you into being a Void so I can draw endless power from you," he said, in a snide, almost gleeful kind of tone.  

Scott snarled, hearing the cuffs start to splinter just behind him.

Stiles, however, just remained motionless, letting Bel do as he pleased.

"Breaking you will be even better this time around," Bel said, not realizing that his hands were gently being nudged out of the void he'd created.  "Isaac will be the first one to die, and I think I'll go the tried and true method and have your body kill him.  Ah...  The realization that his best friend killed him, I can see his broken sad little face now, can't you?"

Bel pushed deeper into Stiles, too wrapped up in his mind to realize he hadn't gone farther than his knuckles.

"I'll use Isaac's corpse as a puppet, a nice lifeless tool to kill Scott back there.  Because your brother is too emotional to hurt a fly, let alone his dead mate's corpse.  He'll die trying to bring Isaac back, all the while knowing that it was your fault, and you caused all the miserable pain in his life," Bel chuckled, pushing his entire hand inside of Stiles, only to have it pop out again from an unknown force.

"Boyd and Erica!  Ah, the little lovebirds...  I think I'll tie them down across the room from each other and slowly torture them.  Letting them see each other slowly dying, and spend days spiraling into nothing before I finally cut their throats," Bel said, as tears began running down the monster's smiling face.

Stiles let his body shirk away from the tears, unsure what to make of it.

"P...  Peter will try to save you and die doing that, because apparently you're worth something to him.  You were...  You were always worth something to someone, you bastard.  Even a complete stranger would take you in!  But me?  No!  I had to wander the world for years, because I had nothing!  You had it all, and didn't even have to try for it!" Bel screamed.  His smile faded into a crooked, angry expression.

"That's why Derek will be the last to die.  I want the love of your life, that amazing man, that bastard who had it even better than you to suffer the most!  I want everything and everybody in his life to die, and let him have a taste of pain and grief!  I'll make him into another you, and at some point he'll beg for death.  He will hate you for everything you did to him and his family, and he'll suffer!  He'll suffer like I have!  He'll have nothing!" Bel ranted, in a gross sob.

Stiles finally turned his head up, meeting Bel's expression for the first time.

"You're...  Envious of us?  That's why you want to hurt us all?  Why you hate everything and everyone in this world?" Stiles asked.

Bel growled, shoving his hands in deeper and deeper into Stiles, but not actually capable of moving into his soul.

The imp didn't answer Stiles, and instead focused his efforts into possessing the man.

"I almost feel sorry for you.  Because you've got to be the single most selfish, childish, pathetic creature I've ever seen," Stiles answered.

Using both of his hands, Stiles grabbed Bel by the wrists.  Too easily, as though having his soul ripped open was nothing.

Bel’s eyes widened and he looked down at his hands.  They couldn't go any further.  Something…  Something was already inside of Stiles’ soul, taking up all of the space inside.  Something burning hot, fierce, and…  Overwhelming.

Stiles couldn't be possessed.

The grip on Bel's wrists tightened.

“I was alone in this world.  You took away everything from me, and for what?  Because you wanted what I had?  You couldn't be an honorable demon and live out your existence in a noble way, like the Kitsune?  No, you had to be a monster and ruin the lives of people you'd never even met," Stiles said, his voice darkened, his tone muffled by something.

Bel growled loudly.  "Shut up!" He screeched, as his eyes flashed silver and several graves around them exploded in a cloud of dust and marble.

Unphased, Stiles moved forward with Bel Still inside of him, pushing the demon towards the graves of his parents.

“You think you’re a big, strong demon?  You think you’re anything special?  You’re not.  All you are is a sad, miserable brat.  A child.  You can’t have your way, so all you’ve done this entire time is throw a big tantrum," Stiles said.

In one swift movement Stiles pulled Bel's hands out of him with easy.  The void into his soul disappeared.

“So now I’m going to stop you.  For mom, for dad, for Melissa, and for everyone you’ve hurt.  For the people I know you'd hurt if we let you live.  And you know what?  I know I can stop you now, because my mate’s given me the strength to do that," Stiles said calmly.

In a flash, Stiles snapped both of the demon's hands off completely.

Bel screamed as pools of black grief shot out of his arms liked blood, and the demon scrambled backwards.  He reformed his hands, still clutching the wrists from the remnants of pain.

Scott dropped his jaw. "Dude?!  What the fuck?!" He said, knowing full well that Stiles didn't have that kind of strength.  No human did.

Freshly recovered, Bel was already on his feet and running at Stiles.  Fist raised, the demon aimed right at Stiles's face

"I'll take you one way or another!  You are mine!" Bel shrieked.

Stiles stopped the demon’s fist, with only a minor struggle pushing back to stop him.  His hood fell backwards from the force of Bel’s punch, falling backwards onto the length of his back.

Anger flared instantly in Bel’s face as he glanced into Stiles’ eyes.   

"W...  What have you done?!  What have you done?!  Do you have any idea of what you've done?!" Bel screamed.

Crying out  in a loud, piercing screech, Bel wrapped his hands around Stiles’ wrists and threw him with all of his strength away, and into a mass of gravestones.  Flying in the air, Stiles adjusted himself to land on his hands and knees, coming to a skidding halt by Scott and his parents’ graves.

Grabbing the cuffs that sealed Scott’s arms and legs, Stiles broke through them with ease, shattering them with new-found strength.

“Run.  Run now,” Stiles said quietly, pulling Scott to his feet and letting the injured Alpha lean on his shoulder for support.  

As Scott turned to his brother, he could only stare in awe.

His golden eyes burned in a brighter fervor.  Reflecting off the fangs fangs peeking out of his mouth, and accented by the pointed half-shift ears.

As Bel continued his insane roars, destroying the headstones and flowers within his reach, Scott and Stiles stumbled backwards, sprinting off.  Stiles, forced to bear most of Scott’s weight, still found it easy to carry the extra burden.

"You...  You took the bite?!" Scott asked, flabbergasted.

Stiles nodded, still virtually carrying his brother as they moved further and further away from the cemetery.  "I wasn't about to die, get possessed, or lose you!  This is the only way I could accomplish all of that, so it's a small price to pay," He answered frantically.

Hobbling as they ran, Scott smiled.  "Good.  So uh...  I hope you've got more of a plan than running away, because he is like crazy strong," he explained.

"Kind of?" Stiles answered, laughing nervously.

While still running, Stiles threw back his head, letting out an inexperienced, loud howl.

He called for his pack, called for his family.  For the first time in his life, he called for help.

 

+++++++++++

 

The howl echoed throughout the entirety of Beacon Hills.

Two eyes shot open for the first time in nearly a month, inside of the local hospital's intensive care unit.

"Stiles...." A woman whispered, as blood boiled fervently in her chest, flowing life through her entire being.  

 

+++++++++++

 

The howl brought Bel out of his fury.  

Genim was a werewolf.  He took the bite to fill his soul with his wolf.  There was no room for him in Genim's life anymore, possession was impossible.

No more power.  No more hope of having the brat's life.  Nothing.  

Growling, Bel caught the tail end of their escape and sprinted forward to catch up to them.  

Nobody would have Genim.   _ **Nobody.**_

 

+++++

 

The attack area circling the local cemetery had little chance of having a break in the line.  Bel had no chance of getting out without meeting some sort of violent resistance.

Hale enforcers were out and on a completely different plane of existence when it came to speed and efficiency.  They were already in position, and ready to go if the demon came anywhere near them.

Boyd and Erica were far ahead in full shift to track, while Isaac kept behind with Derek.  Jackson was off doing his own thing.  Kira and Lydia had paired up with Allison, and gone off on their own part of the entrapment plan.

Derek had waited all of ten minutes after Stiles left the house before howling for the Cavalry to run after Stiles.  Though apparently, that was 9.99 minutes too too long if Chris Argent was concerned.

Running through the woods with a majority of Derek's pack, the hunter hadn't shut up the entire time.

“...to have a vulnerable teenager, to even THINK he has the capacity to take on an A Class demon is laughable Mr. Hale.  I don’t know who you think we are, or how your family thinks hunters work, but this is not professional under any means!" Chris bellowed, talking in Peter's general direction.

Peter glared angrily at Derek.  If there was anyone in the world who hated being lectured above anyone else, it would fall to Peter.  He would be kissing his uncle’s ass for years to come, and probably needed to buy the guy dinner or something after this was all over.  He could only imagine that talking to that Stiles would get from Peter.

“As I’ve said…  My nephew acted rashly, but part of what makes us a species is our…  Hearts.  Even if it's a stupid ass idea, we follow our hearts," Peter answered.

Derek smiled, recalling the conversation he and Stiles had shared, not half an hour earlier.

 

_“What I need from you is…  I need you to give me the bite and do it quietly.  I won’t let Scott die, and I have to go, but I’m not dying or giving into this monster.  Demon Possession 101, they can’t possess something that’s already got an occupied soul.  So if I’m a werewolf, I can probably survive long enough to piss him off and distract the bastard to snag Scott.  Then you guys come in and clean up.  Maybe I can wound him, make it easier for us to get away..  I don’t know, this is a half-assed plan at best, but…  I’ve got to do it,” Stiles explained._

_Derek tightened his grip on Stiles’ hands.  “Stiles…  This is stupid, let us help you!  Let the hunters-”_

_“I have to do this Derek, and it’s more than just because of Scott.  Even if this wasn’t all my fault, even if I didn’t directly do all of this, that…  That thing got strong because of my feelings.  It’s strong because of all the things I thought and felt in my life.  Because I let myself be weak, this thing has…” Stiles said, pausing for a moment.  “I’m not letting it take anything else from me, you got it?  Maybe this is selfish and stupid, but I want to take responsibility.  Otherwise, I’m going to regret this the rest of my life,” he answered._

_Silenced, Derek could only pull his mate tighter, in a hug.  As if he could ever actually tell Stiles no.  He planted a firm kiss on Stiles’ forehead._

_“Trust me.  Okay?  I’m not…  I’m not going out there to die.  I want to live, and I want to spend the rest of my life with my…  With my new family.  A family that I’m not letting anyone take from me!” Stiles explained, in a fierce determination._

_Derek finally nodded.  “Then give me your arm, and know that you’ll have about 5 minutes before you start to half-shift.  You’ll have control for about an hour before your inner wolf is fully aware and you go into full shift for the first time.  You have ten minutes before I send in the cavalry, so…  I’d hurry with your stupid plan,” he admitted reluctantly, but with a half-cocked smile.._

Derek shook himself out of his thoughts, taken aback by the sound of a fierce roar from the direction of the cemetery.

“That wasn’t Stiles,” Isaac said, tightening his fist.  He moved to Derek’s side and slugged him.  “Asshole.  Letting him go like that, do you have any idea how pissed I am you?!  You’re fucking with my best friend and my mate!  I am so going to-”

Isaac’s rage was quelled by a deafening howl from the same location, much different.  Derek smirked, grinning like a dork as he heard his mate’s howl.  Strong, powerful, calling for his pack.

“That was Stiles,” Derek said, his chest surging with pride.

“MOVE IN!  Follow that howl!” Chris bellowed loudly into his earpiece.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, Bel is about to get EVERYTHING coming to him that he deserves. 
> 
> I'm also considering several fic idea for my next multi-chapter fic. What do you think?
> 
> http://rtsidestories.tumblr.com/ (I also have a tumblr and do take prompts)
> 
> 1) Stiles is a "City Wolf" and lived his whole life in New York trying to act like a "clean" werewolf (mild classism being a prominent theme, Stiles is embarrassed of his heritage). While his mom and dad (Claudia is the werewolf, John's human) go out of the country for business (everyone is alive!), he's gone to stay with Claudia's BFF growing up, Talia "Tia" Hale for the entirety of his Summer Vacation. Basically Stiles realizes how much he fucking LOVES acting like a real werewolf, and it's all about feels and instinct and coming to love your heritage. Oh, and Sterek. Obviously. :3
> 
> 2) Derek's a "Gaurdian", or basically gets paid by Beacon Hills to keep the town safe from the troublemaking demons. (werewolves are known). He's always been a loner, but then basically each chapter has a new werewolf/human/etc coming into his territory, and joining the pack because Derek can't stand to say "no" to anyone in need. "Pack Building" fic.
> 
> 3) There's a weird hooded figure in Beacon Hills. After he kidnaps Stiles Stilinksi (Stiles isn't friends with anyone, not even Scott), the thing starts stealing Sparks from all of the local Alphas and threats. He keeps demanding that Scott and his pack leave Beacon Hills, or face his "wrath". So they have to try and figure out why he kidnapped Stiles, why he seems to know about threats before they even happen, and why this freak won't hurt anyone in Scott's Pack.


	16. Chapter 16

Running was good.  Running was smart.  As much as Stiles wanted to use his newfound werewolf powers to rip Bel to shreds?  Yeah, if Chris Argent couldn't kill the bastard with his prodigal daughter, he had no hope of doing it by himself.

So Stiles continued to run, basically carrying Scott on his shoulder and away from the terror just behind them.

"Don't get close to him, he's got like...  Weird stringy shit that he uses to bind your limbs.  Then he kicks you and sticks a thorn through your chest, because he's a cheap son of a bitch," Scott explained, grunting as he palmed one of his open wounds.

Stiles gulped, slowing down momentarily as Scott cringed from pain.  "How bad?  Don't bullshit me," he asked worriedly.  His nose was still brand new, but the smell of molding decay was probably not a positive scent for Scott to have.

Hissing, Scott tried to force Stiles into picking up the pace.  "I'm not a daisy, so I can hold out but...  I could really use a doctor or a healer right now," he answered truthfully.

Nodding, Stiles prayed to every holy entity in the universe that Isaac or one of the Argents would find them soon.  They could heal Scott and be the backup they really needed.

Lost in his thoughts, Stiles barely noticed when they ran into a clearing.  Obviously a long since abandoned campsite, Stiles crunched over the debris of a campfire and kept running to the safety of the trees.

Concentration returned as a vibration shook beneath Stiles' bare feet.

"Back!" Scott yelled

A thorny root erupted from the ground in front of them.  Stiles caught the shift in the earth, pulling Scott firmly into his arms and leaping away before the root could hit either of them.  

Stiles staggered back into the open clearing, surrounded in a ring of trees.  more thorns erupted in front of them, blocking the path back into the Hale territory.  Even if they went around, Stiles could feel the roots under the earth shifting, ready to block any way they ran towards.

“I think he caught up,” Scott whispered.

“No shit Sherlock,” Stiles answered, in a hurried tone.

The two took a deep breath each, turning around to face the direction they’d just ran from.  

In no real hurry, Bel walked calmly out of the thicket of trees, joining them in the clearing.  His silver eyes gleamed in a new light, not breaking from Stiles’.  Bel snapped his fingertips, exploding several nearby pines in a plume of flames and ash.

“I think he’s pissed,” Scott whispered.

Stiles nodded.  “Gee, what gave you that idea?” he answered in a nervous laughter.  

Slowly, he slid Scott down to the ground, where he landed with a dull groan.  His wounds still throbbed thanks to Bel’s tampering.  Even if he wanted to, Scott wouldn't be good in a fight as he was.  He'd be good as dead.

"You took the bite.  You took the bite just to spite me.  So I couldn't have you," Bel growled.

Stiles flashed his teeth, surprising himself with his own wolfy growl.

"I'm nobody's anything.  Not anymore!  I'm Stiles Stilinski-McCall-Hale.  That's who I am and nobody is going to change that ever again!" Stiles barked, standing between Scott and Bel.  He attempted to unhinge his claws to full length, only for the muscles not to respond like he wanted.  In reality, he had no idea how to work his changing body.  

Bel caught this moment of weakness and laughed.  "Pathetic.  Worthless as a human, even more worthless as a werewolf.  No matter.  You and your brother are dead anyway.  I need neither of you anymore," he said, raising his hand in the air.  Sparks flew from his fingertips.

Stiles stood over Scott defensively, growling in Bel’s direction as the demon moved closer and closer.

“You little bastard…  You think you’re so smart, don’t you?  You think cutting yourself off from me would fix me for good?  Sure, you may be out of my hands, and your life if forever gone from me, but there are plenty of other humans out there that I can ruin.  I’ll find another brat and start all over again.  I've learned how to turn a human into a living corpse efficiently now, and With all the grief I have stored up, I’ve got plenty of time and energy to find me someone new.  I’ll-” Bel said, face gleaming joyfully before it was moved out of Stiles’ sight by a flash of golden fur.  

Stiles blinked and missed Bel practically vanishing from view.

In a nearly full shift, Jackson ran more wolf than man, but with the appendages necessary to attack with human mannerisms.  With Bel in his left hand, Jackson drug the beast along the ground, letting Bel’s head hit every obstacle that came in their way.  Rocks, trees, roots, and even one offended deer found Bel slammed against them.  

Reaching a sturdy tree, Jackson ended his assault by pulling Bel out of the ground and slamming his body through the trunk, where Bel found himself firmly stuck.  Like a toothpick through a sandwich.

Black blood seeped through Bel’s eyes, and his body shuddered as every broken bone and ruptured organ began the healing process.  The demon whined painfully, feeling each and every injury undo themselves.

Jackson ran back to Stiles and Scott’s sides from a fair distance away, shaking himself down to only a half shift.  “You okay?” he asked, leaning down and checking Scott’s wounds.  

Scott nodded, smirking painfully.  “Not really, hurts like fucking hell and I can’t heal,” he explained.  

Stiles touched Scott’s wound, attempting to scrape off the black grief that littered his body.  Though as he did, he saw his new claws jet out of his fingertips at last.  Though not as long as he needed them to be.

“Holy fuck…  Derek actually did give you the bite like he said…  You’re shifting...” Jackson said, his eyes widening.

Nodding, Stiles carefully returned to wiping the grief from scott, using his claws to tear at his shirt that hid some of the smaller wounds.  “I’ve got a while before I full shift.  We need to finish it before then,” he said, glaring up at the wrecked woods where Jackson had pile drived into Bel.

Stiles’ ears twitched, as the sound of a tree shattering signaled their break was up.

“Argent said to keep injuring it.  It’ll run out of grief and then it can’t heal itself or use as much demon magic shit. The others are on their way, you up for this?  I don’t think he’s going to wait for them all to show up,” Jackson asked, flexing his hands and letting his claws unhinge completely.  He hovers his hand by Stiles, letting the new wolf see the muscles that needed to move.

Nodding, Stiles adjusted his hands in a similar pattern to Jackson’s, quickly learning how to unlock his claws at full length with ease.  

Scott attempted to stand up, but was immediately shoved back down by Jackson and Stiles.

“Nope.  Sit back and relax, you already did your part.  Wait ‘till Isaac gets here, you’re going to need him,” Jackson said, nodding in Stiles’s direction.

Both werewolves moved forward, watching as Bel stepped back into the clearing.  Black blood seeped down the demon's body, and Bel forcefully pulled his arm back to socket.  

"So...  The blonde tyrant makes an appearance.  How's it feel getting saved by the man who tried to ruin your life more than I did?" Bel laughed loudly.  

Jackson's shoulders fell at first, brought back to life as Stiles clapped his hand on his pack mate's shoulder.  "At least Jackson grew up, unlike some babies I see in front of me," he replied.

"I was never a baby.  I was a brat, there's a big difference Stiles," Jackson replied.

Their smiles infuriated Bel, distracting him long enough for a bullet to run through his sparking right hand, severing it from his body.  

Bel shrieked, pulling his hand down and watching the flesh burn from a holy bullet.  Without the ability to heal and reform the appendage, Bel merely formed a black stump to stop the holy energy from burning any further down his arm.

From behind, Bel felt a sharp blade ram through his gut, and watched as the tip jutted out from his navel.  

Stiles dropped his jaw as Kira's figure appeared behind Bel.  From the edge of the clearing, Stiles could also spot Allison reloading another holy bullet into her rifle.  

Bel grabbed the blade in his one good hand, attempting to pull it out from the front.  "S...  Stu...  Stupid she-demon!" He yelled.

Kira struggled to hold onto her blade, but closed her eyes and concentrated.

"Gods of thunder who watch the land, heed my call!  Strike down upon my enemy with nature's fury!" Kira chanted in a shrill cry, before letting go of her katana and sprinting back towards Allison.

Clouds formed overhead in a dark spiral, as thunder rumbled overhead.  

Bel moved to pull out the sword for good, stopped as a ghastly wail echoed through the clearing.

Stiles shivered as a cold swept the area, and watched Lydia join Allison and Kira.  Her mouth was open, singing a dark hymn in a language Stiles didn't immediately recognize.  

"Ah!  Get away from me!" Bel screamed.

Turning back to Bel, Stiles felt his chill deepen into full on frostbite.

Ghoulish, spectral green hands were coming up from the ground, holding Bel's arms down like chains.  He couldn't remove the katana and skeletal faces were coming up out of the ground with the hands attached to them.  All moaning, all keeping Bel firmly in place in a mixture of fear and otherworldly strength.  

Unable to move, Bel could only stand helplessly as torrents of lightning shot from the sky and enveloped his body in a sea of vibrant blue, all striking at Kira's katana still lodged in his gut.  The demon screamed in agonizing pain.

The blue bolts lit up the dark clearing as though it were the daylight hours.

"So Lydia can like...  Summon the souls of the dead?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

Jackson nodded, as the last torrents of electricity dissolved.  "She's a banshee, what do you think she did?  Just scream all the time?" He asked.

A question to be addressed later, as their group watched Bel stand up before them.  Kira's blade fell out of him, and they gasped.

Bel's skin was barbecued, nothing but black molten flesh and singed hair still burning in place.  His teeth were exposed from his half-melted mouth, while his eyeballs slowly leaked from Bel's skull.

He moved.  Despite all the damage, he moved.

Bel's skin bubbled with grief, and his pale skin reformed slowly over his entire body.

"Holy...  Mother of God..." Jackson muttered, taken aback.  His claws shook nervously in place.

Allison took sight with her rifle and fired a shot at Bel.  He blocked the bullet with a root that erupted from the ground in front of him.

"How cute...  You think pain like this phases me?  Far from it.  You don't know what real pain is!  You don't know what I've-"

Bel's ramblings were cut short again as a massive werewolf and a broad puma leapt from the woods.  Boyd, in full shift, sunk his teeth into Bel's neck, where a geyser of grief sprung out of him, covering the ground around him with the back goo.  Erica used her claws to tear into Bel's still healing guy wound, while her teeth sunk into the other side of Bel's neck.  Another geyser spurred high into the air.

"You stupid beasts!  Get off me!" Bel demanded, summoning roots from the ground and knocking Boyd and Kira off himself.

The two maintained an aggressive posture, as Bel struggled to heal the gaping wounds in his body.  He slowed himself, down on one knee.  Lydia sang from her position with Kira and Allison, and more hands came from the earth, holding Bel into place while he struggled in vain.

Allison took aim with her rifle and fired.  The bullet shot through Bel's chest, leaving a hole where his heart would have been.  Unable to heal or reform for area or skin or muscle, a hole remained in his body that anyone could see through.  The smell of rotting demon flesh drifted through uh woods.

"Scott!" Isaac yelled, running up through the thicket of thorns that blocked Scott and Stiles earlier.  He burned the bigger ones with ease, and knelt down to Scott's side once he was in the clear.

Stiles sighed in relief, watching Isaac rip off Scott's shirt and shove his glowing fingers into the wounds.  Scott winced as his muscles and skin were forcefully stitched together with magic.

"Stiles!" Derek said, running through the thorns and embracing his mate tightly from behind.

Stiles turned to meet Derek's gaze, hugging back just as frantically.

Sounds of Boyd and Erica launching themselves on Bel again were drowned out by Derek's heart.  Kira was chanting something else, and the sounds of firecrackers erupted from Bel's general direction.  More gunfire from Allison.

"Did he hurt you?" Derek asked, breaking off their hug and glancing over Stiles' body.

Stiles shook his head, turning back to face his demon.  Despite his open wounds from Boyd and Erica, the grief trickling out of him was no more than a nosebleed at best.

"The enforcers met a little angry surprise in the forest, and Peter's handling her with Chris.  If you want to finish this, you need to make it fast," Derek said, clapping his hand firmly on Stiles' shoulder.  "And friendly heads up about your old body?  That's just his shell.  You're going to have to rip him open to get to the real thing," he explained.

"He's all yours.  I've got your back," Jackson answered.

Derek half-shifted, unlocking his claws and unhinging his fangs.  "I got your front," he offered.

Stiles didn't need a further invitation.  

With a roar inside of him that he didn't know he could produce, Stiles ran.  He ran forward, with Jackson and Derek on both of his sides.  

Boyd and Erica backed off, jumping out of the way of the charging force.

Lydia cut her song off, letting Bel stagger to his feet free of his bindings, hopelessly trying to restore himself.

Bel stumbled, attempting to run and escape.

Though the last of Stiles' sorrow was spent up in its entirety, as Bel's human body became little more than a shell to hold the demon.

Bel gasped, watching Stiles jump head first into him.  Stiles planted his feet on Bel's chest, and grabbed either side of the demon's arms.

"This is for mom and dad!" Stiles roared, ripping both arms out of Bel's sockets and throwing them to the ground.  The arms dissolved into dust as Stiles slammed Bel to the ground.

The demon writhed in agony as Stiles shifted his position over him.

"This is for Snoopy and Scott!" Stiles screeched, burying his feet into the demon's gut, while his arms grabbed Bel's legs.  Just like the arms, he ripped them from the demon's body and watched them dissolve in his hands mid-rip.

Bel's eyes faded from their silver into a disgusting vomit-green.  His torso blackened from the lack of energy, into nothing but base carbons.

"And this?  This is for me and Melissa!  This is for everyone you hurt and everything you've destroyed!  For the people you wanted to suffer!  No more!" Stiles spat, as a stray tear fell from his eyes, dotting Bel's face.

In one last thrust, Stiles threw his new claws into Bel's neck, nearly severing it in one blow.

Stiles' old body took its last breath.  The light vacated Bel's eyes.

The entire clearing silenced itself, watching as Bel's human form dissolved into nothing but dust.  Swirling away into the sky as if he never existed in the first place.

Left in its wake was the real Bel.  The real demon that started everything.

No larger (and with the body) of a human infant, Bel turned out to be a lizard like creature with putrid green eyes, sharp scales, and a tiny marble horn on his hand.  He would be lucky to come to Stiles' knee if standing.

And...  The beast was sobbing.  Crying grossly as the last of the dust blew from his body.

"No...  No!  I...  I had a life!  I had it!" Bel whimpered, crawling on its tiny claws and scrambling away from Stiles.

The werewolf growled, ready to squash the creature on the spot, but stopped as he made out a familiar scent.  Something warm, comforting, beautiful.  A smell that subsided his rage.

Derek smiled beside him, holding Jackson back from running after the creature as well.

Bel, ignoring the world around him, could barely see through his tears.

"It's not fair!  It's not fair!  I deserved his life!  I deserved his parents!  I deserved all of that!  Why?!  Why couldn't I have it?!  Why was I born to live like this?!  It's not fair!" Bel squealed repeatedly, not completely unlike a frightened swine in his tone and attitude.

His advance halted as he ran into a pair of furry legs.

Bel wiped his tears, met with a pair of solid red eyes.   Scratch that.  Sixteen pairs of solid red eyes.  

Stiles took a deep breath.  Massive full shift Alphas of all ages and colors, the Hale Enforcers generated a ring around the clearing.  Escape?  Impossible.

"No!  No!  I don't want to die!" Bel squealed, crawling backwards and away from the Alphas.

Those words turned Stiles' gut.  Knowing good and well that his parents probably had the same last thoughts.  

Stiles took a step forward, reaching out to twist the bastard's neck.

Someone beat him to the punch.  

Someone with the smell that quenched his bloodlust not a moment earlier.

Stiles hitched his breath, watching the figure stand up to her full height.  Those warm curling locks of brown unkempt hair were all too familiar.  The green impish creature had been picked up by a woman in nothing but a tied off hospital gown.  Her tanned hand wrapped itself around the creature’s neck, where Bel let out a whining squeak.  Red eyes shone on Bel’s face like a torch, coming from the woman in question.

“M…  Mom?” Stiles and Scott cracked out quietly, glancing at Alpha McCall herself.  Isaac retraced his hands, but kept Scott firmly planted on the ground as he made the final healing marks.

Melissa McCall stood tall and proud in the clearing with them.

Her heart beated in a normal rhythm.  There was no scent of a “sickness” within her.  

Stiles could sense her blood, her heart, and everything about her slowly healing on the inside.  

The treatment worked.

Just behind her, Peter appeared out of the shadows with Chris Argent close behind.  “Good to see you up and about as you are Alpha McCall, though you shouldn’t strain yourself any further.  Running this far and as fast as you did in your state was dangerous, I don’t care if you are an Alpha, and I wish you would have listened to us,” he explained.  

Bel’s bug eyes widened as Melissa’s grip tightened around his neck.  He sobbed and whimpered more.

"M...  Mercy...  Please!  Please show me mercy!" Bel begged, writhing in Melissa's grip.

Melissa failed to waver as she brought the creature to her face, flashing her fangs.  “Is this the thing that hurt my sons?  Are you the slimy little bastard that’s hurt my boys?!  You’re the one who killed John and Claudia?  Is this the piece of shit, Peter?!" she barked, roaring in the demon’s face.

Stiles walked away for a moment, helping Scott to his feet as Isaac gave the siblings some breathing room.  The rest of the pack watched Melissa carefully, not moving an inch.  Her fury, an Alphams fury, should never be crossed.

“Yes Alpha McCall, that is “Bel”.  As I explained when we met up, Bel was the creature hidden inside of Stiles.  He is responsible for-” Peter explained, cut off by the sound of a neck snapping.

Bel went limp in Melissa’s hand, lifeless and dead in one simple motion.  The being’s conscious faded once and for all, with nothing but a final year falling down the demon's face.  

"Nobody hurts my sons," Melissa said curtly.

She dropped the green demon, smashing into the ground with her foot before walking off to her sons and ignoring Peter completely.

Peter cleared his throat.  “Well…  Never mind then,” he said, nodding politely in Chris’ direction.  “I’ll leave the cleanup to you, though I suppose that is moot now.  Good evening,” he said, waving to the rest of the pack.  “Come on now pups, let’s give Alpha McCall and her sons a moment,” he explained.

The pack followed after Peter.  Derek gave both Scott and Stiles a firm clap to the shoulder before joining the rest of his family.  Isaac was hesitant to leave his injured mate, but pecked a small kiss on Scott’s cheek and when he saw his mate’s eyes began to water.  

Despite the hunters tending to Bel’s remains, Melissa let her half shift fade and hugged both of her sons tightly.  She let a quiet sob echo from her throat, and they all fell to their knees in a warming embrace.  

“Mom…” Scott said, letting tears stream down his cheeks as he buried himself in her right shoulder.  

“My little Alpha…  Sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re okay…” Melissa answered, pressing a firm kiss on Scott’s head and frantically pulled him closer.

Stiles could only glance into her still sickly face, but…  He could smell the warmth, the life.  She wasn’t going to die.  Someone he loved…  Wasn’t going to die.

His heart thudded loudly.  Loudly enough that Melissa heard it.  

Turning to meet Stiles, Melissa let out a contented sigh of relief.  “Stiles..  Oh my God, Stiles!” she said, pulling him in just as close as she had Scott.  “I’m so glad you’re okay…  I’m…  I’m so glad.  I heard your howl, and I...  I knew it was you, and I wasn't about to let you be hurt.  No more, never again. You've had enough hurt in your life,” she said, pressing a kiss on Stiles’ forehead.  

Unable to speak, Stiles barely managed to stutter out anything but a relieved chuckle.

“Mom, are you better?!  Like for good better?!” Scott asked.  His eyes eagerly glowed a softer red.  Nobody bothered to point out the snot running from his nose as tears flooded out of him.

Hurriedly, Melissa wiped the tears out of her face and Scott's  “I believe so sweetheart.  I think the treatment worked, because I heard Stiles call out, and…  I felt everything shift inside of me.  Like my organs were on fire, and everything started stitching together and healing.  My disease…  Was gone,” she answered with a smile.  

“I…” Stiles stammered out, unsure of how to respond.  His mouth was cottonball dry, while his body felt like fire engulfed each and every crevice.  He needed a moment to catch his breath, as everything began spinning around him.

A loud howl echoed in his mind.

Stiles groaned.

Oh fuck, that wasn't fair!  He had so much to say, and like hell was his diva of a wolf about to ruin this moment.  His full shift could wait.

At least, that's what he told himself.  Instead, all that came out of his throat was a garbled half whine, half moan.  He pulled a Scooby Doo, and all Stiles could do was slam his shifting claws into the earth to express his annoyance.

Scott and Melissa both chuckled, watching as Stiles fell backward, splayed out in a mild discomfort.

"Not one for tender moments are you bro?" Scott teased. Patting Stiles on the chest.

Stiles growled at his oh so funny brother, the bastard.

Scott just rolled his still leaking eyes, sobbing as much as he was laughing.  "Yeah, yeah...  You're a big scary wolf now, just cool your jets," he answered.

Melissa nodded.  "I bet you're going to be a very handsome wolf.  No doubt about it with this hair," she said, sniffling happily as she pet Stiles' hair.  

While reassuring that he wouldn't be ugly, the massive cramps in his groin and abdomen were far more pressing at the moment.  He thanked God he hadn't eaten anything yet for dinner, because he'd be shitting his pants if he had.

Scott and Melissa both clasped his hands.

“First full shifts always hurt the most, dude.  I’d just let it happen and not fight it all that much,” Scott answered, patting Stiles’ widely expanding chest.  A mild pelt of fur grew out of a majority of his skin.  "I know you want to stay human right now, but let go or you are going to be super sore for the next month."

Melissa ran her hands through his hair as Stiles tried to voice an objection.  “Don’t worry.  We have all the time in the world now.  Shift and we’ll make sure you get home safe to your bed to rest.  We can...  We can talk tomorrow, and the day after that, and many more days even after that.  So just close your eyes and let go,” she explained, shushing Stiles, and maybe gleaming a little bit of an Alpha command in the process.

“Yeah, and I’ll make sure Derek’s with you all night.  That’ll keep your wolf nice and happy,” Scott answered.

That idea did soften Stiles up.  He let his body lay back against the earth beneath him, groaning as his hips jetted out and ripped some of his favorite jeans to shreds.  

“Derek. Who's that?” Melissa asked curiously, turning to Scott.

Scott nodded.  “Yeah…  Lot happened while you were out in sleepy land.  Stiles found his mate, and I uh…  I found mine too.  Derek is the big Alpha guy that you saw earlier, and he’s Stiles’ mate.  Mine is Isaac, the guy that sort of kissed me earlier,” he answered with an eager smile.  

“You did?!  Oh, and yours is that absolutely adorable boy with the curly hair?!  Tell me all about him!  Oh, and Stiles, tell me all about yours too when you wake up!” Melissa squealed in delight.

Stiles could swear she heard Melissa’s excited murmurings about grandchildren, mating, courting,  safe heat sex, and other embarrassing topics, but..  Sometime between the point where he grew a snout and had his hoodie’s fabric decimated by his new upper body, Stiles was fast asleep and couldn’t feel the appropriate level of embarrassment as the local hunters heard his mother giving him the "mating" talk.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for the happy go lucky ending that this fic desprately needs?? :)


	17. Chapter 17

Stiles couldn't say that his sleep-induced shift was all that relaxing.

Not with all the goddamn howling, whining, whimpering, and playing barking going on in the back of his mind the entire time.  Even unconscious, Stiles felt...  Awake.  Whoever his wolf was, the bastard ruined any chance of dreaming he might have had.  The howling, however, wasn't of any dark sort.  Not like the ramblings of Bel in the back of his mind for years.  No, it was joyful, playful, and endearing sort of emotion.  Feelings in sync with his own.

So no, Stiles' sleep wasn't relaxing.  His sleep was more like a long awaited freedom being born inside.

Though as he fluttered his eyes open, and as the afternoon sun hit him?  He thanked every holy being he could think of for the physical sleep he'd been offered, because the dull aching soreness spread through him like wildfire when he was finally conscious.  

His bones and muscles throbbed more than the weekend he worked out with Scott and did suicides to buff up for lacrosse tryouts.  Even his spleen felt a dull soreness, and Stiles wasn't even sure where his spleen was.

At least he was in his own bed, in his own room, and the familiar scent of Derek on his pillows gave him relief.  He wasn't surprised that he was naked, given that he'd gone through his full shift.  Thankfully, someone had covered him in his and Derek's thick fur blankets, covering him up.

Unfortunately, he couldn't really care about the few comforts.  His feet screamed at him, as he unwittingly let his claws out much to his body's aching annoying.

Groaning, Stiles shut his eyes and wanted to return to his annoying ass wolf's dream self.

Except that he was immediately shaken awake again.  By a strawberry sweet scent that he didn't immediately recognize.

"Oh my God!  Stiles!  You're awake!  Get your lazy ass up!" Erica shrieked, loudly enough to wake the dead.

Knowing better than to ignore her, Stiles peaked an eye open.  Erica's glowing blue eyes beamed in sync with her massive smile.  Relief glowered on her face, and she threw her arms around Stiles' neck.

"Oh my God!  First of all, you have the most adorable wolf half ever, it's like pumpkin orange and chocolate brown all mixed together, and I'm pretty sure a few of the Hale Alphas want to bag you for themselves!  If Derek wasn't my Alpha, and if I didn't love you to hell and back, I'd tell you to try and get it on with Alpha Cole, the guy is like crazy loaded!" Erica rambled, speaking fervently as she plopped down beside Stiles.

Taking her place inches away from Stiles on the bed, she played with his bed head, swishing curls into his lengthy bangs.  "Also, just to let you know, you are like scary strong and I will do everything in my power to not piss you off in the future.  But hey, we're midnight run Taco Bell buddies when all the others are lazy assholes, so we're pretty tight, am I right?" She asked colorfully.

Stiles leaned into his friend, and couldn't help but smile.

At least, until Erica slugged him in the arm, her face raging mad in an instant.  

"But you are such a raging douchenozzle!  Oh my fucking God, you were going to go and face Bel on your own!?  You could have died!  Don't you know how much we care about you!?" Erica said, rage subsiding into a sad frown.  She hugged him tighter.  "You are Boyd's sparring buddy!  Though he'd never admit it to Derek or Scott, Isaac thinks of you as best friend now.  Derek loves you to hell and back, Scott loves you hell in back in another manner entirely, and...  Cora already calls you Uncle Stiles behind your back, and Peter thinks of you of the son he never had, and...  Even Jackson and Lydia kind of like you now!  Kira was sobbing when you left, because she'd just gotten to know the real you!  And we all..." she rambled, shaking her head.

Finally free from Erica's grasp, Stiles could only smile at her.  

"Oh, and...  Just so you know, you chased your tail in your sleep, and everyone has it on their phones now, and I'm pretty sure Lydia is sending it to Funniest Home Videos.  You were adorable," Erica said, laughing in between her tears.

Stiles grunted annoying, burying himself in his pillow and trying not to picture the "adorableness".  "How much caffeine have you had today?" He asked bluntly.  Though he smiled as he asked it.  

This was...  Normal.  This was the back and forth he'd come to love about his new family, and...  This wasn't going anywhere.  Bel was gone.  He had nothing to fear anymore.

Stiles' muscles didn't ache as much, and he could hear an echo of happy panting in the back of his head, matching his feelings.

Erica huffed.  "Not as much as Peter!  I swear they've been working on the party since-...  I mean, they've been up since like the crack of dawn," she said, catching herself mid-sentence.

Stiles noted her heartbeat was a little erratic.

Though he couldn't notice it for long as the door to his and Derek's bedroom swung open, with his lovable boyfriend standing in the doorway.

"Stiles!" Derek exclaimed, beaming happily.  

Erica smirked.  "Ah.  Happy werewolf mates bonding through their hearts.  Not even a soundproofed room can keep feelings apart," she said, pinching Stiles' cheek playfully.

Flushing at the thought, Stiles used all his strength to slap Erica's hand away.

Derek rushed to Stiles' side.  He took the open slot to Stiles' other side, pulling his mate away from the pillow and mashing their bodies together in a massive hug, not caring that the blankets fell away to the side.  Erica snickered at the sight.

Stiles groaned.  "Not healed!  Not healed!  Sore as fuck!" He announced annoyingly, but still snuck a kiss into Derek's throat.

There was a new warmth tingling in Stiles' chest while Derek held him in his arms.  Like there was nothing else for miles around but him and Derek.  

Maybe there was a little less inhibition than before.  Whereas Stiles the human might have found licking Derek's throat a little questionable, werewolf Stiles didn't seem to give a fuck.  A scenting thing?  Werewolf thing?

Or maybe that was just the real him, finally coming out?  Bel was dead, he could...  He could love again and not worry about it being ripped away from him.

Stiles wanted to say all of that to Derek, but instead could only think about one thing as he took in Derek's heavy scent.

He gagged, yanking his head away from Derek.

"Why do you smell like plastic and Wal-Mart?  Is that really your scent?" Stiles asked, cocking his head.  

His momentary lapse into deep thought couldn't really stay around with cheap plastic assaulting his nose.

Derek dropped Stiles back onto the bed, while Erica cackled off to the side. The Alpha blushed, clearing his throat.

"I uh...  No, I don't have a plastic scent.  People say it's more like..  Leather?  I just...  I was doing stuff, and it sort of rubbed off.  Sorry," Derek said, running his fingers over a prominent hickey now protruding on his neck.  Derek growled happily at it, smirking right alongside Stiles.

"Kay, well, I'm going back downstairs because I get the feeling you two are about to fuck, and...  I'll let everyone know to avoid the Alpha bedroom," Erica said, waving goodbye to the mates pair as she shut the door gently behind her.  

Stiles rolled his eyes, grunting as he tried to position himself against the headboard.  "Would you...  Like get me some clothes?  Please?" He asked, still careful to cover himself modestly.

Nodding, Derek made his way over to their shared closet, snagging Stiles' favorite t-shirt, and the baggies jeans that might accommodate his new muscles.  He made a pit stop at their dresser, snagging some boxers as well.

"How long was I out for?" Stiles asked, stretching out.  He felt his muscles snap into place, and moaned at the newfound strength.

Derek chuckled.  "You passed out that night around 10 or 11.  It's just noon…  Three days later,” he answered with a nervous laugh.

“Oh lord,” Stiles said, huffing playfully.  “I missed Chemistry.  I don’t think that even fighting a demon and turning into a werewolf would get Harris to let me makeup my homework,” he laughed.

“I wouldn’t worry about that Stiles,” Derek offered with a smirk.  “Isaac and Kira took care of your Chemistry homework, Jackson did your math, and I assume Scott made a genuine effort not to screw up your English homework all that badly,” Derek explained.

Stiles’ forehead twitched.  “Scott!” he exclaimed.  

His panic seemed obvious to Derek, who patted his mate’s shoulders as he finished fishing out the last of Stiles’ clothes.  “Scott is fine.  Isaac basically patched him up entirely that night, and Peter finished things off with some bandages and antibiotics.  He’s already back in school,” he explained.

Stiles relaxed, leaning into Derek.   “Thank God….  Is everyone else okay too?” he asked.

“Naturally,” Derek replied.  He hefted off the sheets and helped Stiles into his boxers.  “By the way, Peter checked you out and everything's normal for a newly bitten werewolf.  No deformations, no extra bones, and no surprises downstairs," he explained with a playful smile.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  Because of course Derek would be in a joking mood after everything they’d gone through together.  Or perhaps it was just relief talking.  "Good to know,” he answered quietly.  He took a deep breath.  “So how pissed off is everyone about what I did?" Stiles asked, chuckling nervously.

Derek snorted.  "The pack is moderately pissed and you'll be kissing ass for a few weeks, but they all understand.  Though...  I've only ever seen my mother mad about three times in my life.  You should be proud to know that you created a fourth time," he said, holding back a laugh.

Stiles cringed.  Pissing off one of the most powerful Alphas in the Unites States?  Not a smart idea.

"Though, she's stuck in New York, so her rage was contained by FaceTime and blew out my speakers.  I'm sure she'll call to lecture you about not putting yourself in danger, because you're part of our family now, and do the mom routine on you.  Though in the end, she left Melissa to decide how to discipline you," Derek explained, letting out a sigh of relief.  "Which is great, Because believe me, you do not want my mom involved," he said, laughing as he helped Stiles into his jeans.

Stiles shook his head, face paling.  "No...  No, that is not great.  I think she can take your mom, you've never seen her hunt down a bear before.  That shit is traumatizing," he answered, as he took his shirt and forced it over his head.

Derek aided Stiles off the bed, being more or less a crutch for the newly bitten werewolf.  

“So…  I guess I need to face the music, huh?” Stiles asked, sighing painfully.  

“Well, everyone’s been waiting for you, so…  Yeah,” Derek answered.

Nodding, Stiles was content to let Derek guide him out of their bedroom.  His ears piqued at the sound of anxious shifting downstairs, and the sounds of plastic balloons rubbing against each other.  And the scent of buttercream frosting wafting through the…  

Stiles beamed as Derek helped him downstairs.  

“You waited?” Stiles asked, sneaking a kiss on Derek's cheek.

Derek nodded.  “I waited,” he answered, kissing him right back.

Upon reaching the last step, the entire pack that waited in the living room let loose a party popper each, covering Stiles and Derek with a metric ton of confetti and string.

In one unified roar, Stiles’ family shouted “Happy Birthday”, with a massive tiered cake off in the kitchen, and dozens of beautifully wrapped presents in the corner by the sofa.  

Stiles couldn’t stop the tears or the laughter from escaping him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

_**On August 25th 2007, Stiles and Derek would share the best birthdays of their lives.  Melissa would explain to Stiles that she's acting as Derek's new Alpha Mentor, and would move into the Hale Home a few weeks later.  Stiles would explain to Jackson that his debt is repaid, and that their future relationship would only be based on mutual friendship.  (Jackson would scoff, but relief would stream through his veins.)  Stiles, Erica, and Boyd would engulf birthday cake together, laughing as Bud pouted and whined at Derek to share his cake.  Lydia would gift Stiles and Derek more clothes than he thought was possible, informing them that they WOULD be more fashion forward if it killed her.  Chris Argent and Peter Hale would bicker back and forth, in what Allison Argent would secretly classify as "flirting".  Isaac would fuss at Stiles for a few hours about the battle, eventually letting go and hanging off his best friend for most of the day.  Cora and Laura would stop by, offering their warm affections and a slap to the back of the head courtesy of Talia Hale.** _

_**The party wouldn't end until the wee hours of August 26th, where Kira Yukimura's magical fireworks would light up the night sky.** _

 

_**Afterwards, all of their birthdays would blur into one bright ball of happiness.** _

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Twenty years passed in what seemed like a blink of an eye.  

The once “new” Hale Mansion in Beacon Hills showed signs of subtle aging, alongside several additions to the home, including a full wing to the side of the house, and a massive auto shop just across the street with varying vehicles from the town parked outside of it..

Or perhaps the full roof replacement that thirty-seven year old Derek Hale was currently patching on was more telling of the age.  The aging male bickered back and forth with Scott and Stiles over construction basics.  Having lived with such a large family as the head of the new territory for so long, patches of grey spiked at the tips of Derek’s ears, framing his striking jaw and facial hair.  Stiles, as thin-trimmed as ever, still hadn’t changed out of his deputy’s uniform after his shift, and tried to repeatedly yank the hammer out of Derek’s hand and show him how “real” patch jobs were supposed to work.  Scott had long since given up finishing the work that afternoon, throwing his hands up and kicking back for the sun to warm his shirtless figure.

Time could also be told by the children of varying ages spread out en masse on the front lawn.  

Like a messy blonde teenager with Jackson’s eyes wrestled with a curly brown preteen with with Isaac’s nose. The two were fighting, again, for the third time that weekend.  Jackson sighed as he looked up from Hale family financial ledger, choosing not to get in between the his son and nephew’s latest altercation over whatever video game nonsense Stiles had bought them to “share”.

Or the vivid red-headed six year old with Lydia’s no-nonsense face had a makeshift tea set on a picnic blanket, forcing two pale eight-year old twins (with Stiles’ facial features and their father’s Alpha eyes) to be her “guests”.  The red haired Beta poured her mother a cup of make-believe tea, growling when Stiles’ twin Alphas attempted to scoot away and run to do something far more fun.

Then there was the eighteen year old black-haired adonis spread himself out on the lawn, trying to soak up a tan in the same way that Scott did up on the roof.  Isaac rolled his eyes, coming by and yanking the blaring DJ headphones off his son’s ears, muttering about hearing loss and “wasting time not doing his homework, lazing around like some cat, for fuck’s sake you are your father’s problem today”.

All of those faces were drowned out by the playful shrieking of a long haired six-year-old blonde, sat on a tire swing, with her mother Erica and her Aunt Cora pushing her back and forth from each other.  The little tyke was incredibly happy that her Auntie Cora was back from teaching college, and continued to assert that she should move in with her fiance already!

Boyd worked tirelessly across the street with his teenage son, trying to force Mayor Argent’s antiquated truck into functionality.  Another father/son project for the weekend, as Boyd continued to train his son to take over the Hale Automotive Repair Shop once he and Derek were ready to retire.

Kira and Allison were, as the usual Saturday, bickering back and forth over the city budget on the back porch.  As the city clerk and head of the school board, Kira reminded Allison that they could not buy the police force high-impact rifles, or the Elementary school wouldn’t have an art program.  “Grannie” Melissa cracked a mild joke about when the two would get married, only to be met with literal sparks flying out of Kira’s eyes.  The aging Alpha quickly relented.

In short, just like any other day, a dull roar enveloped all around the aging Hale mansion, with new life and new youth echoing throughout the property.

Though despite the ruckus, a wrinkled and aged 60-something year old Peter Hale maintained a composed face.  On his lap, four-year-old Leah Hale was content to lay her head on “Paw-Paw’s” chest, listening to another one of his stories.  Derek and Stiles’ youngest daughter loved stories more than anything else in the world, and Paw Paw was more than eager to share the stories of their family with her.  With the racier or more violent parts cut out, of course.

“Then what happened Paw-Paw?!  After Daddy beat that big ol’ demon and Grannie Melissa got rid of it, what happened?!” Leah asked, shaking Peter’s collar rapidly.  

Peter chuckled at how her bright golden eyes hung onto every single word, and how her little hands had her Papa Derek’s strength already coursing through them.

“Well…  Your Daddy Stiles went to sleep for three whole days after he became a werewolf!  He was very cute and chased his tail in his sleep, I'll have to find that footage and show you, but was all better after that.  Though he slept straight through his and Papa’s birthday, but we had a big party waiting for him when he woke up.  Daddy Stiles was very surprised, and even though he was still incredibly sleepy, he said it was his best birthday ever.  Uncle Jackson and Uncle Isaac made the best birthday cake of all time, and Grannie Melissa even got to come home from the hospital for good after that,” Peter said, finishing the story.  He pressed a gentle kiss on Leah’s head, and she beamed.

“So that’s how Daddy and Papa got married?” Leah asked.

Peter nodded.  “Well, that’s how it all started anyway.  It was Uncle Scott and Uncle Isaac that got married first, right out of high school before they went to college.  That was right before Cecil was born, and right before I moved in and joined your Papa’s pack.  Because Paw-Paw had to take care of the little pup while Scott and Isaac finished school and got their jobs.  Then of course Uncle Boyd and Aunt Erica had Kevin soon after that, so I just decided to make my life here for good,” he explained.  

Leah smiled.  “So Daddy was happy after all of that?” she asked.

“Of course!” Peter exclaimed, patting Leah’s shoulders.  “He had your Papa, he graduated college, and he got to work in the same place that his first mommy and daddy worked at.  We've got a great pack, and we all got to live happily ever after," he said.

Leah smiled, giggling as her Uncle Scott fell off the room, landing with most of the tools falling right after him.  Scott groaned in agony.

"Sorry!" Derek yelled from up on the roof.

"Derek did it!" Stiles barked innocently.

“I did not!” Derek countered.

"...I think I broke my ass," Scott grumbled from under the front porch.

Leah giggled, hopping off the porch swing and staring off the railing.  "Uncle Scott, are you okay?" she asked.

Scott raised up, hefting the tools into his arms and smiling bravely as he wiped a bleeding bump on his head.  He pecked a kiss on his niece's concerned face.   "I'm fine sweetie.  I'm just going to go up and kick your Papa's butt, okay?" he said with a playful smile and flashing his fangs.

"Daddy will help!" Leah answered, laughing as Scott climbed back up the wooden sides with his claws.  

Peter joined Leah at the railing, sighing as the sounds of a playful scuffle roared overhead.  "We'll never get the roof fixed at this rate.  I should have just asked Jackson to find us a contractor.  Though the little tightwad would probably just find the bargain basement pricing, and everything would start leaking again.  Whoever decided to leave him in charge of the pack funds should really go straight to-," he mumbled sadly.

"Hey Paw-Paw?" Leah asked, interrupting Peter's thoughts.  

Peter cut his insane ramblings and smiled sweetly at his great niece.  "Yes?" He asked.  

Leah easily hopped up on the railing with her limber arms, so she could speak to Peter, eye-to-eye.  "Daddy had a lot of bad stories, but Papa had all the good ones.  Does that make Daddy sad?" She asked.

Peter chuckled, pulling Leah into a side-hug and throwing her easily over his shoulders for a piggy back ride.  “Oh sweetheart, people ask your Daddy that all the time.  And every time, Your Daddy says he’d do it all over again a million times over.  That all the joy in his life is as irreplaceable as all the sorrow.  He couldn't have had one without the other, you see.  Had things not happened the way they did,then none of this would be here today,” he answered happily.

Leah's face scrunched as Peter walked her off the porch and onto the grassy lawn where Lydia's daughter Tera was currently chasing Derek's twin alphas Cole and Matthew (who were running for sweet freedom) with a toy knife.  

“Did Papa ever have anything bad happen to him?  Or just Daddy?  Cuz Papa always tells good stories with funny endings, but Daddy's is always kinda sad," Leah asked.

Peter took a deep breath, Stepping over Cecil and Isaac who were continuing to bicker over his headphones and his inability to ever wear a shirt.

“Well, when Papa was 12, he had something bad happen to him.  His Uncle Marc, my big brother, did something bad when your Papa visited him.  You remember when Daddy and Papa told you about how Alphas are like leaders?” he asked.

Leah nodded.  “Uh huh,” she replied, smiling.  “Alphas are leaders, Omegas are the guardians, and Betas can be both!” she answered.

“Smart pup,” Peter said, ruffling Leah’s hair.  

They passed by Kathrine dry heaving in between her mother Erica, and a hysterically laughing Cora who'd been spinning the tire swing for the last several minutes.

“Well, some Alphas aren’t as nice as other ones.  My big brother Marc wasn’t a good one.  So when one of his Betas did something he didn’t like, Marc…  Marc made that Beta go to heaven, and your Papa saw it.  Marc told your Papa that Alphas had to do things like that, because it’s “how it was done”.  Papa Derek was sad for a long time, because he didn’t want to be an Alpha anymore if it meant he had to be mean like his Uncle Marc.  Uncle Marc called him bad names that little sweet angels like yourself shouldn't hear of,” he explained.

Leah pouted, folding her arms and ruffling her eyebrows like her Papa taught her to.  “That’s not nice,” he answered.

Peter sighed, nodding in agreement.  “No it wasn’t.  Grandma Talia tried to make him feel better and say Uncle Marc was "old school", that people didn't do that anymore, but it didn't help much.  But he had your Uncle Boyd and Uncle Isaac there to help him get happy again.  Your Papa had people to help him be happy again.  It took a while, but Papa smiled again, just like your Daddy did.  He found a new happiness, and a new goal in life, just like Daddy did.  To make a pack full of laughter, a pack of freedom, and a pack where everyone can make their own choices.  Which I can say he was able to find," he answered.

"Yay!  Happy ending for Papa!  Happy ending for Daddy too!"  Leah announced, throwing her arms up and giggling.

Peter smiled, stopping as the two of them reached far enough away to turn around and watch the wrestling match up on the roof.  Derek was pinned to the roof by Scott and Stiles was just sitting on his stomach to add weight.

The Hale Alpha hadn't changed in twenty years, merely giving in to his brother-in-law and husband's whims constantly.  He never minded being the brunt of a joke, or letting the pack tell embarrassing stories at dinner time about him.  

Yet, the man was a fine leader and great head of the family.  From teaching Boyd's son Carson to replace an engine, to helping Cecil out with lacrosse practice, or even telling Leah bedtime stories for hours on end.  

Peter smiled proudly at his nephew up on the roof, the first place winner of the family to take Talia's place and the first one to refuse it instantly.  

"Papa's silly, but Daddy's goofy!" Leah announced, pointing to Stiles who currently had himself splayed out over Derek, prodding the Alpha's face playfully in some sort of victory.

Peter smiled softly at the image.  Years of therapy, years of nervous Augusts, and half a million nightmares had finally gotten past the pup.  Stiles could smile again, and enjoy the life he deserved.  Then again, having three children and a handful of nieces and nephews tended to shift one's life entirely.

Leah hopped off Peter's back, landing on her hands and feet and waving at Boyd and Carson across the street.  

"Thanks for the story Paw-Paw!  I'm gonna go ask Uncle Boyd for one now, okay?" Leah asked, granting Peter a parting hug.

Running off, she was careful to look both ways before crossing the old dirt road, running off to hear Carson babble on about motors and Boyd to share his amusing Derek stories.

Peter fit his hands into his jeans, and taking in a deep breath of air.  

"I wish you were both here to enjoy the happiness your son gave us.  When we meet wherever we meet in the afterlife, I'll buy you both drinks while we wait for everyone else to join us.  We'll see each other again.  Someday," Peter spoke into the bright sun shining overhead.  

"Paw-Paw, Dad is being unreasonable again!  He's ruining my life!" Cecil whined loudly, breaking the otherwise peaceful moment in Peter's mind.  

Peter chuckled.  While there were a dozen things he could say to the youth about what a real ruined life was like courtesy of his Uncle Stiles, he bit his tongue.  "Isaac, stop being unreasonable.  If he wants to have hearing loss and look like a moron, then let him," he answered back sarcastically.

"PAW-PAW!" Cecil screeched.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Before anyone says something about Paw-Paw being a bad werewolf pun, realize it's a very common term for grandfathers/uncles where I'm from. In fact, my great-grandfather only wanted to be called that. XD]
> 
> And the bittersweet ending that took me far too long to write. Time to wrap up some other projects, and then onto the next great writing adventure!


End file.
